Beginning to Unwind
by PokeyDotes
Summary: Their job can be stressful. Sometimes trying to unwind can be just as stressful. This story has a little of everything: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds… or at least that's what people keep telling me.**

Having spent the better part of a decade practically living in unfamiliar hotel rooms, Spencer Reid had a pretty good understanding of how the next few nights would go. Hot shower, followed by hotter coffee before settling in the middle of the oversized bed with his back against the cool headboard surrounded by crime scene photos and barely legible notes, trying not to think of how desperately he wanted to lie down, allowing the cool sheets to press against his tired frame. Very rarely would he immediately go to bed, no matter how late it was. Even when the team did not have a case, Reid would spend a few hours trying to unwind before exhaustion finally took over and he could fall asleep. He spent the next two hours snacking on various treats from the vending machine while listening to Prentiss move about her hotel room, muttering the facts of the case out loud.

Close to three o'clock in the morning, Reid was debating between clearing off his bed and finally going to sleep or getting out the map and taking another look at the geographical profile. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stretches his feet forward, letting his heels dig into the hotel's dark carpet. He reaches his arms out toward his toes in a deep stretch in an effort to loosen the tightened muscles of his back before deciding it can wait till morning.

Dark hazel eyes dance behind closed lids while battling with visions that tiptoe on the line between a dream and a nightmare. The shrill sound of his phone's ringer piercing the darkness of the hotel room causes Reid to jump awake before the battle could be decided. He hangs up the phone before glancing at the digital blue light to see it was just after four in the morning. Sighing loudly, he climbs out of bed and hurriedly dresses before meeting Morgan near the elevator.

* * *

><p>"This is…different" Prentiss offered while glancing around the motel's less than cheap furnishings.<p>

"Tell me about it, I doubt this place has been redecorated, let alone cleaned, since the seventies," quipped Reid, taking a place between Morgan and Rossi along the room's back wall.

Rossi glanced up at Reid, "Hey, the seventies weren't _this_ bad."

"I wouldn't know, I was born in the eighties, but I'll take your word for it." Reid answered with a crooked grin, only to earn a less than friendly glance from Rossi and a some-what friendly "Don't make me hit you" from Emily.

Reid's grin spread wider as Morgan smiled at him and said "Come on kid, Grandma and Grandpa are getting touchy."

"Morgan I swear, if we weren't at a crime scene…"

"Which we are, so can we start acting like it?" Hotch's voice echoing from the motel's bathroom caused an immediate end to any friendly jesting.

Completely focused, all four profilers began gathering around the bathroom door, Reid immediately kneeling to look at the bodies positioned on the cold tile floor. Both were fully dressed, the man in a dark blue suit, obviously tailored to fit, while the girl wore a dress which redefined the word short. "Do we know who they are?" Reid asked, looking up from what remained of the backs of the two victims' heads.

To say that he had lost count of the number of bodies he had seen over the years in various poses of death would be a lie. Reid knew the exact number of bodies, exactly what they looked like, and if the name had been known, he knew that, too. Knowing their names always made it more personal. The body immediately became a person. Someone who had lived a life, had a sense of humor, and liked to listen to music all because they now had a name. Reid knows it would be easier without the name, but his need to know always won.

"The girl's a prostitute, ran her license and got a hit almost immediately. The guy, well ID confirms it, but everyone kind of already knew who he was."

Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid all looked at the detective, waiting for him to finish. However, it was Hotch who gave them the needed information. Handing a wallet to Emily's gloved hand, he let out a tired sigh, "His name is Timothy Hartman, he's a congressman."

"Well, this just got messy. Well, messi_er_" stated Rossi.

Even Prentiss had to smile after Hotch gave a short nod of his head muttering, "Well said, Grandpa" before walking out of the over-crowded room.

* * *

><p>"Nothing was taken. All the victims still had their jewelry, wallets, purses, cash, phones. If not robbery than what?" Prentiss was trying to run through everything they knew about the case, while watching as Reid absent-mindedly balanced a quarter between his knuckles. "Always couples."<p>

Reid put the quarter back in his pocket and stood up to examine the photos on the board.

Emily was sitting with both hands folded in her lap, watching as Reid scratched at his chin. Noticing that he hadn't had time to shave that morning, she couldn't help but wonder what he would look like with a little more facial hair.

If current observations offered any insight into the future, she would be willing to wager that it might help show a little more of the good doctor's hidden sex appeal.

_Well not too hidden_ she thought, studying what Garcia had deemed to be his 'smart pout'. He was staring at the map, chin angled down, his eyes were barely squinted and brow furrowed, but what really completed the look was the way he had his mouth opened with his bottom lip sticking out ever so slightly. Once in a while, he would bring the lip into his mouth, biting it while he sorted out whatever thoughts were racing through his head. "I'm sorry what?" was all she could manage while attempting not to blush when curious hazel eyes stared at her.

"I said Garcia found something."

* * *

><p>Reid never knows how to classify his feelings about the flight home. He doesn't mind flying, and he is always ready to return home. He just hates the waiting. The feeling of closure that comes from finishing a case just seems to be incomplete until he gets home. The journey from point A to point B just draws out the time.<p>

Glancing up, he notices Emily pouring a cup of coffee. He waits, knowing she is about to put exactly two packets of Splenda into her cup, she always does. She has a thoughtful look on her face, almost as if she is trying to put all of her attention into that one cup of coffee.

She absently tucks her hair behind her ear, but a strand falls loose, lying against her cheek. She turns and her dark eyes find his before he has a chance to look away. Reid just offers a lopsided grin, which she returns with a full smile.

"I thought you were going to try and get some sleep?" She asks while sliding onto the couch next to him.

"Too wired," he simply answers as he eyes the steam flowing from her cup.

"It's probably all of the coffee you've consumed in the last two days. How've you been sleeping?"

He looked up at her curiously. "I only ask, because you've seemed extra tired lately, and seem to actually live off of caffeine."

"I'm just having trouble sleeping. It's nothing new." Noticing the look of concern in her eyes, he quickly added, "It will pass, it always does."

"Are the headaches still bad?"

"No, they've gotten better. It's, …I have nightmares." Remembering Morgan's reaction when he had confided that fact to him, he waited for her response.

"I try not to sleep."

He looked up, confusion obviously written on his face, because she gave a half shrug before finishing, "In order to avoid the nightmares, I try not to sleep. Eventually I get so exhausted that when I do sleep, I don't dream."

"Actually, you have hundreds of dreams each night, you just might be too exhausted to remember any."

She didn't say anything in response. She just tested her coffee again before looking back up and staring straight into his hazel eyes. "I read sometimes, or do crossword puzzles right before bed. I guess I kind of hope that it will take my mind off of what case we're working on."

"I read, too. I used to try watching TV, but infomercials aren't that interesting."

"I wish I could agree with you, but my credit card statement would prove that I'd be lying."

Reid grinned at her confession, imagining her cuddled up with Sergio while wrapped in a blanket with sleeves. "I watch movies now instead," he admitted before even thinking about it.

"Let me guess, science fiction and documentaries."

A wide grin spread across his face as he gently shook his head, letting out a childish "Nope."

Her head tilted to the side as she asked, "Anything I might of heard of?"

"Don't know. Ever hear of Abbot and Castello?"

This time her grin matched his. "You know Reid, for some reason that doesn't surprise me. Personally, I love _Abbot and Castello Meet Frankenstein_."

"I have it on DVD. Maybe sometime we can go to the theaters and see a movie together."

"I'd like that Reid." He watched as Emily began to take a larger sip of her steadily cooling coffee.

She sat her coffee down and gave him a serious, but caring stare, "Reid, you know if you ever have trouble with… anything… nightmares or just can't sleep, you can call me right?"

"I know, and you know you can always call me right?"

"Always." She cradled her coffee and leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes.

"Hey, Emily, thank you."

"Thank you, too, Reid."

Eyes still closed, she whispered, "Hey Reid, you want to watch a movie tonight?"

"Sure, which one do you want to see?"  
>"I'm thinking <em>Abbott and Castello Meet Frankestein<em>."

"Um, Emily… I don't think they're showing that in theaters right now."  
>"I know," she whispered through a grin.<p>

**A/N: This wasn't supposed to be a Reid/Emily thing. In a way, it can be just friendship or pre-romance; it's up to you. Please let me know what you think. **

**This was intended to be an one-shot. However, if anyone would like me to continue let me know. Also, if I do continue, let me know if you want it to stay as friendship or move on to a romantic type thing.**


	2. Chapter 2

Reid opened his eyes when he realized the pain in his neck wasn't going anywhere. Lifting his head up off of the back of the living room's only chair, he slowly blinked his eyes towards the old leather couch on the adjacent wall. It didn't take long for his mind to catch up to his eyes. Emily Prentiss was stretched out on his couch, back towards him. Her shirt had rode up just enough for him to see the smooth skin of her lower back beneath the bright fabric. Feeling a little awkward, he turned his attention to the bright blue screen of his TV. He pressed the television's power button on his way to the kitchen, determined not to wake the sleeping woman on his couch. The fact that neither one of them had a blanket, combined with the uncomfortable position he had woken up in, informed him that they had fallen asleep watching one of the many movies piled on the coffee table.

He had always been comfortable with Emily, but for some reason knowing that she had spent the night in his apartment caused him to have butterflies in his stomach. Albeit, she slept on his couch and he in a chair, he still felt as if their friendship had somehow shifted. Morgan never fell asleep on his couch. Then again, Morgan never spent the evening watching classic movies trying to avoid sleep. Having started a pot of coffee, Reid turned and leaned against the counter, resting his palms against the smooth granite while listening as the machine began to brew the familiar drink.

Letting his mind wander away from the occupant on his couch, he began to focus on the fact that he wasn't really tired. Admittedly, his neck was killing him, but for the first time in a while he was well rested. He had experienced a night void of nightmares, and was able to wake up without having to inwardly bribe himself to get out of bed.

"I thought I smelled coffee." Reid just smiled as Emily unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. Taking in the slightly disheveled look of his coworker as she walked towards him, Reid could feel the butterflies make their way back into the lower part of his abdomen. Deciding it would be best to say something, he offered a quick "It's almost ready" before reaching for two cups from the cabinet above the sink.

Emily sat down at the small island in Reid's kitchen. She watched as he filled two cups with coffee, grabbed something out of a separate cabinet, and made his way to sit on the stool opposite her. She smiled inwardly when he placed two familiar yellow packets of artificial sweetener next to her steaming cup. Looking up to say "Thank you," the words caught in her throat. She had seen this man almost everyday for the better part of five years, and yet for some reason she felt like a teenage girl spying on her crush. He was carefully stirring his coffee, while biting his lower lip. Setting his spoon down, he looked up with eyes that somehow managed to possess the tiredness of someone who just woke up yet were bright at the same time.

In an effort to distract her thoughts from where they would inevitably lead if she continued focusing on him, she looked around the kitchen. "Why don't you have a table?"

"No need for one." She gave him a look that said that he needed to elaborate. "I'm hardly here, and when I am I just eat at the counter or on the couch."

"That sounds like a bachelor for you." She joked, taking the time to notice the lack of furnishings in his apartment for the first time. Other than a microwave and coffee maker, his counters were bare. The living room contained a coffee table, TV stand, old chair, and a surprisingly comfortable leather couch. There were two bookshelves, which were weighted down with more books than she thought they could hold. She immediately had a desire to search the rest of his apartment. That thought was immediately interrupted when Reid questioningly looked at her and responded with, "Emily, I kind of am a bachelor."

"Yeah, so are Morgan and Rossi, but they have furniture."

"Yeah, well, Rossi has a mansion and three ex-wives who probably furnished it. Morgan, well, he has like four houses so odds are, he likes the whole home decorating thing."

She laughed as that statement brought to mind Morgan scanning through a _Homes and Garden_ magazine.

"Reid, do you mind if I use your bathroom real quick before I head out?" 

Reid looked up at the question, slightly startled. "Uh, yeah, its at the end of the hall."

For some reason he didn't want her to leave. Yet, he couldn't think of any reason for her to stay. He was starting to think the butterflies were going to make themselves at home, as he watched her walk towards his bathroom door.

Looking in the mirror, Emily inwardly groaned as she noticed that she was definitely sporting a prize-winning bed head. She quickly brushed the stray strands down while trying to determine what she wanted to say to Reid when she exited the bathroom. She didn't want to leave; she had enjoyed spending the previous evening watching movies with him. She had no idea why she was feeling so nervous. She had spent time with Reid outside of work several times before last night, but for a reason she couldn't name, she desperately wanted to spend more time with him. Deciding not to push her luck anymore that day, she quietly exited the bathroom.

"Thanks again for the coffee, Reid." She smiled at him as she sat down on his couch, reaching under the coffee table for her shoes. "And thanks for letting me crash here."

"No problem. You know, we, uh…" looking down at his cup, he shifted from one foot to the other before clearing his throat and looking up, "we didn't finish them all. I wouldn't mind doing it again, you know, the next time you think you'll have trouble sleeping." He held his breath, silently praying he hadn't been too forward.

"I'd like that. Maybe next time I could bring some of my movies." She could feel her heartbeat getting faster when her eyes looked up to see his crooked grin.

"Sounds good to me." Yep, the butterflies weren't going anywhere.

Emily spent the remainder of her Sunday morning cleaning her apartment. It wasn't messy; she didn't spend enough time there for it to need anything more than a little dusting every now and then. However, today she felt the need to scrub every nook and cranny of every room.

She knew she was being ridiculous. There was no need to scrub the inside of the cabinet above her bathroom sink, but she needed a distraction from the thoughts racing through her head. Dangerous thoughts. The more she tried not to think about him, the more she realized just how much he was on her mind.

What confused her the most was that she had no idea _why_ she suddenly couldn't stop thinking about him. More importantly, why was she thinking about him _that_ way? Rinsing out the sponge and beginning to scrub the area around the faucet, the thought she had been trying to keep at bay finally pushed its way to the front of her mind. She, Emily Prentiss, had a crush on Spencer Reid.

She had always gotten along great with Reid, and had always been close to him, not counting the time Dilaudid had gotten in the way. She had just attributed his treatment to her during that time as him not wanting anyone to find out his secret, because as soon as the secret was out, his attitude towards her changed back to the way it was before Georgia.

But she had spent just as much time with each member of the team over the years, and had grown close to all of them. But for some reason, she had found herself feeling more drawn to Reid over the last few months. She had just assumed it was because they were the only two left in the bullpen after Morgan had permanently moved into his office.

However, she knew that did not explain why she would catch herself watching him throughout the day. She would watch as he studied a file, as he carefully adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder before walking out of a room, the way he would roll his sleeves up just enough to expose the lean muscles of his forearms. She loved to way he would animatedly use his hands when he was explaining anything to anyone, or the way he always seemed to have something keeping his hands busy, constantly tapping on his leg or the table, twirling pens or coins. She especially loved the way he looked when he was concentrating on something. She would never admit it out loud, but she would love for him to look at her with that much attention and focus.

Emily jumped slightly as Sergio made his presence known with a soft purr. Abandoning her unsuccessful attempt at a distraction, she scooped up her cat, and dropped him off on her bed on the way to the kitchen to fix her something to eat.

Sighing as she opened the refrigerator door, she silently came to the conclusion that she had already known she had a crush on Reid, she was just afraid to admit it. Feeling as if her heart was beginning to constrict uncomfortably, she realized that admitting she had feelings for Reid didn't change anything if he didn't feel the same towards her.

Monday mornings were always more hectic than the rest of the week. Reid casually exited the subway, talking his time amongst the rushing commuters. He always left his home early on Mondays, simply because he knew everyone else would be in a hurry. Tossing his empty cup in a nearby trashcan, he continued his walk towards his destination while thinking over the events of the weekend.

He made a conscious effort to keep a steady and slow pace. Part of him wanted to hurry and get to the office in order to see her, while the other part was terrified. He had always thought Emily was an attractive woman. She was beautiful. He also knew that she wasn't the type of woman who would be interested in him, at least not romantically.

He loved her laugh. When she smiled, she would smile with her whole face. She had an amazing sense of humor, and was one of the few people he knew who held some of the same interests as he. He didn't mind when she and Morgan would join up to tease him about any number of things, because it gave him another opportunity to see her smile, to hear her laugh. He also knew she, like Morgan, never meant anything by it. He also trusted her. He felt like he could tell her anything and she wouldn't judge him or betray him.

Reid knew he wasn't a good liar, at least not when it came to lying to his colleagues. He was terrified that she would guess his feelings for her, resulting in the end of their friendship. He knew she would let him down easy, but he also knew that things would never be the same between them either.

He kept telling himself that she hadn't guessed his feelings for her yet, or at least she hadn't called him on it, so he should be safe. However, after the events of the past weekend, he felt as though something was different between them. He just wished he wasn't the only one who felt it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own this or that, or anything in between. I tried, but they said 'no'. **

**A/N: Definitely rated M near the end. I just want to warn people that aren't fans of smut and other smutty stuff, that they might not want to read this. I also want to warn those people who don't like it, but are stupid enough to continue on and read it anyway (despite the warning) then continue to go on and throw all kinds of flames and such, I will only shake my head in derision and wonder how the hell you managed to learn to read. But for everyone else, enjoy!**

Reid walks through the double glass doors, noticing that even though he had left early, Emily had managed to arrive before him. JJ is sitting in a chair she had pulled next to Emily's desk, and the two women were laughing while looking at JJ's phone.

"Morning, Spence," JJ chimes while standing, holding the phone out towards him. "We bought Henry a toddler's trainer seat to help with the potty training, and he fell asleep on it last night." Reid looks at the phone, seeing a picture of a small, blond boy sitting on a bright colored plastic toilet seat with his head resting against the counter of the sink.

"Isn't it adorable?" She smiles looking at the phone again.

"Yeah, it is." Reid just grins as he looks at her. Raising his eyebrows questioningly, he asks, "How cute do you think he'll find it in about ten years?"

JJ puts the phone back in her pocket and responds in mock exaggeration, "It's not like I'm showing it to _everybody_."

Reid just laughs as he sees Emily nod and mouth, "Yes she is."

The rest of the morning goes by like any other. Several cups of coffee, paperwork, consults, a few jokes, idle chitchat. Reid is secretly impressed with his ability to carry on as though his feelings for Emily hadn't intensified overnight. Since Emily is acting like nothing has changed, Reid decides that the imaginary shift in their friendship is just that, imaginary. At least until it's time to go home.

* * *

><p>Garcia walks into the bullpen, grinning ear to ear. Her bright blue bag in one hand, while the other is wrapped around the arm of one Derrick Morgan. "Alright, sweetums, let's go eat." Reid looks up at her, wanting to make sure she's speaking to him before he responds.<p>

"I think I'll pass tonight." Garcia looks as though she's preparing a rebuttal, but is cut short as Kevin walks up behind her. Kissing her on the cheek before turning to look at the three profilers, he asks, "Everybody ready?"

Reid is taken by surprise when Emily answers for him, "Yep, come on Reid. You're riding with me."

Emily just smiles as she reaches for her keys. She almost expects Reid to protest, but is pleasantly surprised when she looks up just in time to see him placing his messenger bag over his head before adjusting it on his shoulder. She is even more surprised when he smiles and makes an 'after you' gesture, bowing his head ever so slightly.

Neither speaks to one another the entire way to the car. Emily just simply listens as Garcia and Kevin carry most of the conversation. She deliberately keeps her eyes anywhere but on Reid. She has a plan, and the last thing she needs is for her nerves to talk her out of it. She had spent most of the night and the entire day planning exactly what she would do.

She needs to know exactly how he feels about her, and the only way to do that short of simply asking is to spend time with him. Well, spend _more_ time with him. The majority of her time was already spent with the team because of their job. She even spent some of her weekends shopping or having lunch with JJ and Garcia. It isn't unusual for a few of them to get together for dinner every now and then. She just isn't used to spending a great deal of one on one time with any of them. At least not the entire night.

She starts the car and takes a breath as he sets his bag on the floorboard between his feet. She exhales quietly, making sure her nerves are intact before putting her plan in action.

"So, _The Count of Monte Cristo_. Ever seen it?" She keeps her eyes on the road, waiting for his reply.

"I've read it." His voice is its usual calm, answering her in a very matter-of-fact way.

"So you haven't seen it?"

"I didn't know it was a movie."

"Do you want to see it?" She chances a glance at him this time. He's looking at her and she feels that constricting feeling in her chest again. The feeling only increases as she hears the pitch of his voice raise as he tries to keep his reaction nonchalant when he answers with a quick "sure".

"We can watch it at my place this time. I have a bigger couch, so you won't be all stuffed up in that chair of yours." She keeps waiting for the awkward genius to start showing, for Reid to start tripping over his words, or for his voice to crack again, but it never does. Instead, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, his right hand tracing lines on the door handle, while his left taps a rhythm on his knee. "If we watch it at your place, I won't have a way home. You live too far from the subway."

"I can bring you home afterwards…or you could just spend the night." This time, when she looks at him, his eyes show slight confusion, combined with uneasiness and another emotion she can't quite place. "I have a guest room, and you kind of let me crash at you place, so I was just thinking…" She lets the sentence trail off, worry creeping into her as she tries to think of a way to smooth over the situation.

"I guess I could stay the night, I mean as long as you're sure its okay. It would be easier for you than having to drive me home."

She forces herself to hold back the smile that is threatening to break free. "And you can just ride in with me tomorrow morning. We can swing by your place and get your go-bag after we're through eating."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

><p>Once at the restaurant, food is ordered and things are discussed. Pretty much the same as any other time he has had dinner with his friends. However, this time Reid can't help but notice that Emily never once brings up their movie marathon that took place over the weekend. When Morgan turns towards her and asks in that suggestive, yet teasing way that only he can, "So what are your plans for the rest of the evening, Princess?" Emily gives him that 'you wish' teasing look and coolly responds, "I'm going home and curling up to watch a good movie." Again, Reid can't help but notice that she doesn't mention the fact that he will be taking part in those plans. It's something that's just between the two of them, and for some reason, that knowledge makes the butterflies in his stomach dance faster than they had when she first suggested that he spend the night.<p>

Sure, he'd end up in a guest room…but it's a start.

The ride to his apartment isn't as awkward as he had expected. Throughout dinner, he had been silently running through scenarios, all of them ending with her changing her mind, but nothing bad happens.

They laugh and talk, as though they were in the bullpen waiting for the end of the day rather than driving to his apartment to get clothes for him to stay the night with her. He knows he's being ridiculous, they are just going to be watching a movie. They had done the same thing two nights ago. He had not been nervous then, at least not until the next morning. There was no reason for him to be nervous now. They were just two friends. They were just going to watch a movie, unwind from the day, and then go to bed in two separate bedrooms.

When she parks the car, Reid's a little surprised when she cuts the engine and starts to walk towards his apartment with him. He doesn't say anything about it; he simply carries on with the conversation they had started before turning onto his street.

* * *

><p>She doesn't know why she doesn't just wait in the car. She's relieved when he doesn't question her actions. She has no idea what she would tell him. This wasn't part of the plan. The plan involved her couch, a movie, and subtle hints. He's a profiler. She's banking on him reading her body language, on him getting the hint. That way she can read his reactions, see if he even registers that she is into him. <em>If not, no harm done. Right?<em>

He unlocks his door, and she follows him inside. She watches as he heads to the bedroom. She desperately wants to follow him, but she tells herself it's just to see what his room looks like. She knows it's a lie. She walks further into his living room instead. The movies are still on the coffee table from Saturday night. Emily sees the blanket and pillow on the couch and realizes he probably continued watching movies without her. She picks up one of the cases, trying to think if they should bring it with them.

She's brought out of her thoughts as Reid sets his bag on the floor by the coffee table. He takes the two steps needed to close the distance between them, and she holds her breath. The feeling in her chest is back. She eyes him as he looks at the movie in her hand before raising his eyes to meet hers.

She's focusing all of her attention on keeping her emotions in check, trying very hard not to scare him off. She immediately wonders if he's aware of how close they are. She releases her hold on the movie as he takes it from her, asking "Should we take this with us?"

She hears it then, the little hints in his voice that shows he's nervous. That emotion she couldn't place before is back in his eyes. He's biting his bottom lip. She lets her eyes register this before looking up to meet his again.

This time she takes a step forward, forgetting all plans about watching any movie. She can't help it, and if anyone were to ask why, she would blame everything on him, because when she looks in his eyes for the second time, he has that look on his face. Not quite the 'smart pout', but the intensity is still there. He's studying her, trying to figure her out. His eyes are on her, and that's all she wanted.

Emily realizes for the first time just how tall he is. Standing this close to him, she realizes that things are definitely about to change. As her right hand rises to rest on his arm, she readies herself for the change, good or bad.

Her heart is about to beat out of her chest, as she waits for him to react. It only takes two seconds for her to have her answer, for her to know whether or not she has ruined a wonderful friendship or has simply taken the first step in getting what she wants, what she hopes they both want. Those two seconds seem to last a lifetime, but the moment she feels the arm under her hand move, those two seconds are completely forgotten.

Reid knows something is different. She has never looked at him that way before. In fact, he can't recall having ever seen that look on her face before now. The movie is still in his hand when she takes a step forward. It's a small step, but it's enough to get his mind reeling. He can count the number of times he's been this close to her, he remembers each and every time. He also remembers the way she looked each time. And it was never like this.

His mind is flying, going in so many different directions, he can't keep up. He tries latching on to a singular thought, but is having difficulty. Every time he thinks he has her actions figured out, another reason jumps in to tell him why he's wrong. It's not until her hand touches his arm that he's finally able to make sense of the chaos in his head.

He doesn't remember thinking it through. He isn't aware that he's even reacting to her touch. All he is aware of is that his hand has somehow found its way to her waist, pulling her into him.

The kiss is soft, and brief. It only lasts a few moments before Reid realizes exactly what it is he's doing. He quickly snatches his hand back from her waist as he puts as much space between them as he can. It isn't much. The back of his legs hit his couch, and he freezes.

"Emily, I'm sorry, I uh,…" He's tripping over his words, grasping for any way to fix his mistake; for any way to make it _not_ a mistake. "Emily, I didn't mean..."

His sentence is left unfinished. Both hands immediately find their way back to her waist the moment she grabs the front of his shirt with both of hers, closing the gap between them once more. She kisses him, and he kisses her back. This kiss is soft, but different from the first. He's waiting for something to happen, for her to change her mind and leave. When he feels her hand slide up his chest, and snake around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her, he's done waiting.

He leans into her, pulling her body to his, while his fingers play with the hem of her shirt. She hears a small sound the moment she feels his hands skate beneath the fabric. His fingers dancing along the small of her back, slowly making their way back to her waist. It takes a moment for her to realize that she's the source of the sound.

She takes his bottom lip between her teeth at the same moment her hands start to pull at his shirt, trying to get it un-tucked and unbuttoned at the same time. He doesn't stop her as she begins to work on loosening his tie. His hands are constantly working their way higher, she can feel the goose bumps make their way onto her skin as his thumb slides across the fabric covering her breast. She can feel him smiling against her mouth when she lets out a tiny gasp after he does it a second time.

She raises her arms, letting him pull her shirt over her head. She immediately misses the contact, the feel of his hands on her. He finishes pulling off his tie, letting it fall next to her discarded shirt before pulling her back to him, resuming the kiss.

She smiles, knowing he can feel it as she pushes his shirt off his shoulders. She lets her fingers glide up the back of his neck, making their way into his hair. It's softer than she thought it would be. She feels his hands find their way to the top of her pants as his mouth begins to make its way to her throat. She leans her head back, giving him better access as she begins undoing her own belt. He notices what she's doing and his hands immediately replace hers, pushing the fabric down, letting gravity pull them the rest of the way as his hands make their way back to her.

She places her palms against his shoulders and pushes him towards the couch. His knees give, and she hears him gasp as his bare back comes in contact with the cold leather of the couch. She straddles his lap and immediately reaches for the clasp of her bra.

She hesitates just a moment, looking him in the eyes, trying to make sure that he's okay with this. He pulls her towards him again, reclaiming her throat with his mouth. She unhooks the clasp as he slides the straps off of her shoulders, slowly kissing his way down her collarbone. She can feel him beneath her. Another gasp escapes her lips as she feels him take her breast in his mouth, his hand massaging the other. She runs her hand through his hair, letting the other make its way down to his growing erection.

She begins to undo his belt, but forgets how to make her brain tell her hands what to do the moment she feels one of Reid's fingers slip beneath the fabric of her panties. She tightens the grip on his hair as she feels that same finger enter her, his mouth now moving to her other breast.

She tries to remember to breathe as a second finger soon follows the first. When he begins to slowly move the fingers in and out, she arches her back, feeling for the first time that his second hand his there helping to supporting her, keeping her from falling back.

When he bends his fingers in a 'come here' motion, she moans loudly. It's when he begins to move his thumb in small circular motions that she manages to speak her first words since entering his apartment.

"Fuck, Reid…" She feels him smile again before he looks up at her. His eyes are dark, and she can see that unknown emotion again, except this time, she has a better idea of what it is. She leans forward to kiss him as she feels herself began to tighten around his fingers, a familiar tingling sensation building deep inside her.

He inhales each of her moans, each gasp, as her hips move against him. He runs his hand up her back as she rests her forehead against his. She's almost there, and they both know it. He adds a third finger and watches as she continues to move above him, listening to every sound she makes.

When she's finally able to open her eyes, she sees him studying her again. A small smirk forming on his kiss-swollen lips. She takes her hands from the back of the couch, and finishes the forgotten task of undoing his belt. He's silent, and just continues to watch her as she moves on to the zipper.

She looks up to watch his reaction as she closes her fingers around him. His face doesn't move, but she can hear his breathing change. His head falls back to rest on the couch as she begins to move her hand, wanting to work him like he had just worked her.

It isn't long before his hands move from her thighs, grabbing her waist. She's surprised when he shifts their position, laying her over the blanket covering the couch. His mouth his at her throat, and his hands begin to push her underwear down as he whispers against her skin, "I don't want to finish that way."

She doesn't wait. She immediately starts moving his pants towards his knees, where she pushes them the rest of the way with her feet. He has one hand on the arm of the couch, the other on her thigh. She reaches between them, and guides him in.

He moves slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm that works for them both. She wraps her legs around him, trying to bring him closer, if it's even possible. Her hands are on the back of his neck, on his lower back. She lets nails scrape across skin, not caring about leaving marks. She can hardly recognize anything she's saying. She isn't even certain any of it makes sense. When he sits back on his heels, bringing her with him to sit in his lap, he's hitting a new angle and she begins to move faster. She tries to keep her eyes on his, to watch him look at her that way, but when his hands slip between him and his fingers begin to move against her again, she throws her head back, letting every nerve-ending scream in agreement. Or maybe it's her, she isn't sure. She feels him resting his head against her collarbone. She can feel her muscles tightening, pleading to keep him there, inside her. It isn't long before it's over and she falls over the edge, taking him with her.

His breathing is heavy, and his head is still resting against her chest. His arms wrapped around her. She can feel each breath as he exhales. She tries to slow her own breathing.

He waits until the pattern of their breaths match before he looks up to see her.

There are a few moments of silence, as they both wait for the other to say something. Emily brings her hands to rest gently on either side of his face. She smiles, and he smiles back as she leans in to kiss him.

He reaches down, picks the pillow off the floor, before grabbing the blanket to lay it over them.

No movie is watched.

TBC.

**A/N: When I started this whole thing, it was supposed to be an one-shot. BUT…lolyncut and The Immortal Doctor Reid asked for romance, so I made romance happen.**

**Also, I find that I'm slowly becoming addicted to the whole 'receiving reviews' thing, so…it'd be great if you didn't make me beg. (by-the-by, I find it motivates me to write faster). Just saying.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. Contrary to what I had originally thought, watching _Criminal Minds_ on DVD will not help you write faster. In fact, it will completely stall your writing. (I kind of got distracted every time I heard Reid or Morgan's voice. I've also got a bad habit of saying the dialogue along with the actors.) I also had no idea how I was going to continue the story from where I left off. The whole 'next morning' thing is just as hard to write as it is to experience. Or so I imagine.**

* * *

><p>The sound is the first thing she's aware of. The light shining through the window is the second, closely followed by the feeling of someone shifting beneath her. She recognizes the sound as someone in a neighboring apartment beginning to shuffle around, following his or her morning routine. She feels a shift again, and lifts her head to see if he's awake.<p>

He's not. She looks over the side of the couch and sees the familiar shape of a phone in the pocket of tangled pants. Careful not to wake him, she leans enough to slide the phone out of its hideout, flipping it open to see the time. 7:13, she still has time to get home and shower before she has to leave for the office.

Setting the phone on the coffee table, she sees her shirt buried among the pile of clothes. Reid doesn't begin to wake until she sits-up, pulling her shirt over her head. She watches as he blinks the sleep away, as he turns his head towards her, as realization creeps in between the haze of just waking up and the coolness he feels that's associated with the loss of body contact.

"Good morning," she smiles as she continues to sort through the clothes at her feet, sorting out which are hers and which are his. She finds her pants, and is beginning to slip her feet inside when she hears his "Good morning" in reply. His voice is deeper than usual, husky with sleep, causing her smile to spread. She stands, bringing her pants up before she starts looking for her bra.

"It's still early, you can probably sleep a little longer." She sits back on the couch, pulling her shoes to her. She realizes that this is the second time within three days that she's done it. This time's a little different than the last.

"I'm already up. Do you have time for coffee before you go?" He sits up quickly, grabbing his pants and sliding them on before standing up to head towards the kitchen.

"It'll have to be to-go, I've still got to shower." She's listening to him run the water for the coffee when she finds her bra stuck in the cushions of the couch. She tucks it, along with her keys, into her pocket before following Reid into the kitchen. His back is to her, pulling cups out of the cabinet. She sits down at the familiar bar stool, trying to think of something to say.

The coffee is still brewing when he turns around. She sees that his hair is sticking up at angles that go in every direction. His eyes are like they were Sunday morning, tired but bright at the same time. He offers a shy smile that suggests he's having just as much trouble trying to think of something to say. She feels a sudden surge of panic beginning to emerge as she begins to wonder if he regrets last night.

"So…_The Count of Monte Cristo_…" He's the first to break the silence. He's looking at her, and she smiles because she realizes that he's smiling, too. She laughs, looking down at her hands that are currently drawing patterns on the countertop. "Yeah, I guess you kind of messed up my plans."

"Wait, how did I mess up your plans?" His tone is light, playfully defensive. Hearing this, she feels better; maybe he doesn't regret it after all.

"Well, you _kind of _started it."

"Um…I…I disagree. I _kind of_ remember _you_ starting it all." His tone is still light, constantly reassuring her.

"Then you remember wrong, Dr. Reid."  
>"Eidetic memory, Emily."<p>

"So you remember that you kissed me first?" she asks as he turns to pour the now finished coffee.

"Yeah, but I stopped. You're the one who started it up again." His back is turned, attention on the coffee. His tone isn't the same as before, and she can't tell if it's because he's concentrating on not spilling the coffee or because he really does regret it.

She still hasn't said anything when he sets the cup down in front of her, two packets of Splenda already stirred in. He looks up at her, worry etching its way onto his face as he takes in the expression on hers. She looks hesitant, as though she's debating something.

"Emily?"

"Do you wish I hadn't?" He had not been expecting her to ask that. He's happy with what had happened, and secretly hoping that she has similar feelings. However, he can't really tell if she does or not. He adverts his eyes, looking at the cup in his hands, the one in hers, a smudge on his fridge door, anywhere but at her.

"Emily, I," he takes a breath, clears his throat, and forces himself to look at her, "I'm kind of glad you did." His voice shows that he's nervous, but he keeps his eyes on her, waiting.

She smiles, picks up her cup, and squints her eyes playfully over the rim, "Kind of?"

"I'm definitely glad you did." He smiles, relief flooding through him.  
>"Me, too."<p>

He watches as she stands, giving him an apologetic look while indicating towards the digital clock on his stove. "I'll see you in a little bit," she offers as she grabs the cup to bring with her.

Reid suddenly remembers a question that had sparked from the beginning of the conversation.

"Emily, what was your plan? You know, the one which I allegedly ruined."

She just smiles as she places one hand on the doorknob, "I actually planned on watching the movie, but I was hoping it would end the same way; I just thought it would take longer."

"So…I didn't ruin your plan, I just sped it up."

"So you admit you started it?"

"No, I'm just speaking hypothetically."

"Later, Reid." He watches as she smiles again, walking out the door.

Reid finishes his coffee before walking into the living room. He sees the remainder of his clothes on the floor next to the couch, along with the blanket and pillow. He notices the forgotten movie on the floor, slightly sticking out from under the edge of the couch. The memory makes him smile. He suddenly realizes he's smiled a lot the last few days, and this thought only causes him to smile more.

He sets his cup down on the counter before going back in to clean up the mess in the living room. He tosses the movie onto the coffee table next to his phone before reaching down to grab his clothes. He tosses the clothes in the hamper, noticing a bright color he knew he wasn't wearing the day before. He reaches for the blue fabric, knowing what it is before he lifts it from its place amongst his rumpled shirt. Another smile crosses his face as he tosses Emily's panties back in the hamper before going for another cup of coffee.

An hour later, he's rushing out of his apartment, hair still dripping from the quick shower. He runs back in to grab his phone from the table, only to return to his door to see Lynette, the elderly woman who lives across the hall, giving him a knowing look. "Spencer Reid, you're in a hurry."

"I've got to get to work, Miss Lynette." She was still staring at him, one thin eyebrow arched high on her forehead. "Is there something I can help you with?" He tries to sound polite, sincere, but he's hoping she doesn't actually have something for him to do. The woman is known for striking up conversations that have the potential to last for hours. She's lonely and only wants company. Reid knows this. It's one of the reasons he doesn't mind when she asks him to help bring up groceries or to change a light bulb. He also knows that she's an intelligent woman, and usually follows up any conversation with a home-cooked meal.

Today though, he doesn't have time. Despite having woken up early, he's still running late.

"No, I'm fine" she replies as he finishes locking his door before placing his keys in his pockets. "She was pretty." Reid stops, turning a surprised face towards the woman. He knows who she's talking about, what it is she's attempting to do. He just really doesn't need his old school, incredibly nosy yet well-meaning neighbor attempting to lecture him when he's late for work. He also doesn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her so. He doesn't have to worry long, because Lynette turns back towards her door, knowing smile still in place, "I just thought you should know that these walls are thinner than you think."

Reid can feel the blush coloring his face as he slowly turns to leave the building.

* * *

><p>Emily is more than a little surprised when she makes it to work on time. Hair pulled into a ponytail, she drops her bag off at her desk before turning towards the break room. Feeling as though she can finally slow down after the mad rush from Reid's apartment to hers and then to work, she lets her mind reflect on the past few days. She is a bundle of nerves, too many emotions fighting for control for her to truly relax. On one hand, she's borderline euphoric. From the conversation she and Reid had that morning, their actions the night before had night ruined their friendship. However, while she's relieved that he doesn't regret having slept with her and she now knows that he <em>is<em> attracted to her, she does not know where their relationship now stands. In fact, she's unclear as to how their relationship can be classified. They are no longer just friends. She wants so badly to just ask him if it was just a one-time thing or if they can become something more than friends who had sex.

Emily just sighs as she walks back to her desk, coffee now in hand. By the time she reaches her desk, she decides that she doesn't want to get stuck with the 'friends who've had sex' title. The only problem is that she doesn't know how to proceed. She has no idea what Reid's feelings are on the situation. Even if he were to share her feelings, she has no idea how the two of them could make it work. Working in the BAU doesn't allow one a great deal of secrecy when everyone you work with can tell when you're trying to hide something. When two of you are trying to hide the same thing, it's borderline impossible.

Emily begins sorting through the files on her desk when Morgan walks in and sits at his old desk. She just smiles and continues her sorting. She's used to him working in the bullpen on days when work is slow. He and JJ both have been known to occupy one of the vacant desks in order to fill out paperwork and have someone to talk to at the same time, although they usually wait until later in the day.

"Well, that didn't take long." Morgan just grins as he leans back in his chair, tossing the few files in his hand on the desk.

"How was your movie?" His innocent question causes a small blush to find its way to her cheeks. She rearranges her coffee cup and the files on her desk, answering him without looking up, "It was great. How about you?" She tries to deflect the attention off of her in order to keep him from asking questions about last night. She glances up at him expectantly when someone walking towards them catches both of their attention.

She notices that Reid's hair is still damp and that his tie is hanging loosely, slightly askew. Seeing him again, in his work clothes, looking so 'Reid-like', Emily can't help but feel the blush begin to make its way back as she remembers the way he had looked the night before. Watching him sit in his chair just as he would any other day, she realizes that the side of Reid she only just learned about last night had always existed. She had sat across from him for over five years, never knowing what he was capable of. She looks back at Morgan, all his attention now on Reid.

"Pret-ty boy," he puts emphasis on each syllable, creating a playful, yet accusing tone, "wanna share with the class why you're late this morning?" Reid gives him a confused look before turning his head towards the clock over the stairs. "I'm not late. I'm… just not early?" Reid looks back at Morgan. Seeing the smile on the other man's face, Reid knows a multitude of questions and good-natured teasing is about to follow. He also knows that Emily won't be taking part in the questioning today. Reid looks towards Emily, only to see her try and hide a crooked smile before offering a soft shrug of her shoulders, letting her eyes settle back on her desk. No, she's not going to question him, but she's not going to help him get out of it either.

"My shower's broken, and I lost track of time." Reid stares at Morgan, hoping the man will let it go. Normally, he would try and joke back, but Reid's still trying to sort through everything that had happened. He has already decided not to make any assumptions concerning his relationship with Emily. He isn't going to assume that she wants to expand on their relationship, even though he hopes she does. He had been happy when she told him what her 'plan' had been. He just didn't know if her plan was for it to be a one-time thing or not.

Seeing how uncomfortable Reid is, Morgan lets the issue drop; instead, reaching for one of the files on top of his temporary desk. The three profilers spend the rest of the morning attempting to catch up on paperwork.

* * *

><p>As lunchtime approaches, Reid starts getting restless. Deciding to stretch his legs, he starts walking towards the break room. A few seconds after he reaches the counter, he feels the presence of familiar butterflies in his stomach when he realizes that Emily is walking towards him. She casually stands on her tiptoes, reaching up for the box of sweetener from the cabinet. Reid watches as she grabs a spoon, and is a little surprised when he blurts out without thinking, "Hey, what are your plans for lunch?" He waits, hoping it doesn't seem desperate. He still plans on waiting for her to make the next move, but he's had lunch with her plenty of times before; there's no reason why this time should be different, right? He's both relieved and slightly confused when she responds with "I was kind of hoping to go wherever you do," before leaning in to whisper, " You might want to fix your collar and tie."<p>

"Why?" He's already beginning to take his tie off when she smirks and whispers even more quietly than before, "You've got a few scratches showing." He flips his collar up and reaches for his tie as she walks back to her desk. Smoothing his collar down, he feels the back of his neck, fingers running over irritated skin.

The entire team, minus Hotch and Rossi, decides to eat lunch together, but somehow Emily and Reid manage to get in a car by themselves. "So, why were you late this morning? You should have beaten me this morning."

"My shower really is broken, I had to rig the shower head to stay in place." He waits a few seconds before adding, almost as an afterthought, "and I needed to clean my couch."

This time, both agents begin to blush. Emily slows down as they approach a red light, stopping behind Garcia's convertible. She realizes that they are almost to the restaurant, which means that any chance at a private conversation is about to end. Trying to feel brave, Emily turns to Reid and asks as calmly as she can manage, "Reid, I was wondering if maybe you'd want to try watching the movie again sometime?" She watches as he turns to her. His eyebrows are raised, and while his mouth is moving, no sound comes out, as though he can't decide on what it is he wants to say. She's nervous, wanting for him to decide, to just say "Why yes, Emily. I'd love to." The light has changed back to green, but she waits for him to answer before letting her foot off of the brake.

It's only been a few seconds since she asked the question, but Reid needs each one of those seconds. He needs the first second to let the question sink in, for his normally quick brain to register what that question means. He needs the next second to try and think of the best way to say 'yes' without actually screaming the word. The final second is needed for him to look her in the eyes and say, "I'd like that."

He doesn't say anything when she parks the car and says, "Maybe next time, we might actually watch the movie," before grabbing her keys and exiting the car. Reid just smiles as he closes the car's door and follows her and the rest of the team.

When they are all seated in the restaurant, food is ordered and things are discussed; and once again, neither Reid nor Emily mentions anything about watching movies.

**A/N: This is not the end. I have about a page written for an idea I had while I was stuck on writing chapter 3. If ADD is real, I think I've got it, or so my doctors/teachers tell me. My mind won't stay focused on one idea at a time. While I was writing all the romance in the last chapter, I had an idea for where I wanted the story to go. I am currently trying to get the story there. **

**I would LOVE to hear what your thoughts are on the story so far. For everyone who has reviewed or added this story to your alerts and favorites, je vous remercie! That means thank you, maybe. In case it doesn't, Thank you! I've realized that I check for Reviews for this story more than I do my email. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Holy Rusted Thingy, Batman! This was one hell of a chapter to write. Almost nine pages, and I don't know how I feel about a single one. I really had NO idea how to continue on from where I left off. I know where I want the story to go, just not sure how I'm going to get there. I'm hoping like crazy that the next chapter will flow better. It took a while to write because I _really_ hate the idea of submitting something that I don't like. I had to re-write a lot of this. **

**FYI, I just read over the Author's Note to make sure there weren't any typos, and the entire time I was reading it in my head with Mr. T's voice.**

It has been twenty minutes since he was first awoken by the sound of the central heat turning on. He rolls onto his back, and turns his head towards the window. The sky is grey, light barely breaking through the fabric hanging over the window. He closes his eyes again, hoping he can fall back asleep. It's Saturday, and he has no intention of getting out of bed any earlier than is asked of him. The sudden weight on his chest causes him to jump slightly, eyes scanning for the source when, finally, hazel meets yellow. He closes his eyes again, and lets his head fall back to the pillow. He has no intention of making the first move.

Reid knows the cat hates him. Sergio had made that clear the first time he had spent the night at Emily's. Reid had completely forgotten that the cat existed, his attention being elsewhere. However, he was quickly reminded of Sergio's presence when he tripped over the cat on the way to the bathroom later that evening. The sharp hiss, followed by even sharper claws let Reid know that Emily was the only one that was listening to his rambling apologies.

Three weeks later, Reid still makes an effort to keep a noticeable distance between Sergio and himself. Sergio, at least according to Reid, has made a habit of staring Reid down when Emily is out of the room, or like at the moment, asleep.

Reid keeps his eyes closed as he waits for Sergio to give up and jump off of him. He feels as the cat shifts his weight between padded paws, as his tail moves across the blanket. Reid is suddenly aware that the cat his slowly making its way closer to his face. He feels the rattle on his chest before he hears the soft purr. Reid opens his eyes, and is once again met with two yellow orbs, much closer than he's comfortable with.

"Sergio, get off him." Emily's sleep filled voice interrupts the silence shortly before her arm reaches across the bed, gently pushing Sergio towards the edge. Reid listens for a thump as the cat leaps towards the floor, but none comes. He watches as the cat sulks its way through the door, tail raised high, before rolling on his side and reaching to flip the pillow.

He feels as Emily shifts on her side of the bed. He quickly grabs the side of the blanket, holding it in place as she unconsciously attempts to tug it towards her. He smiles when he feels her move closer to him in an effort to get warmer as she mutters a slightly slurred, "You're mean."

"You're a cover hog."

"What time is it?"

"Too early." Almost a minute passes before he feels her shift again, placing her back flush against his before leaning into him. "You could have just pushed him off."

"And he could have scratched my eyes out. I think he was thinking about it."

"You're paranoid over a cat."  
>"No, I'm cautious about a cat."<p>

"That's still ridiculous."

"He started it."

"Go back to sleep."  
>"Can't. You won't stop talking." He lets out a tired laugh when she elbows him.<p>

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Reid wakes up when Emily crawls out of bed. He listens as she turns the shower on, and waits for the music to start. Finally deciding to get out of bed, Reid tosses the covers back and begins thinking about everything he's learned about Emily in the past month.<p>

She hates the predictability of romantic comedies, and her favorite movies are _The Wizard of Oz_ and _The Nightmare Before Christmas_. She only drinks milk if it's in cereal or if she has a mouth full of peanut butter.

She has two tattoos; one she regrets, and one she doesn't. She hogs the covers, and prefers sleeping on her stomach. Her favorite band is Les Cowboys Fringants, but her favorite song is _You're Gonna Go Far, Kid _by The Offspring.

She likes to quote movies and books at random times, and her favorite color is constantly changing. She intentionally mispronounces the word 'cinnamon' because it always bothered her mother; now she does it out of habit.

She recently started mispronouncing the word 'linoleum' because it bothers him, but he's starting to get used to it.

When she was nine, she ran through a glass door and has two small scars as a result. When she was seventeen, she put blue highlights in her hair.

When she showers, she plays music loud enough to be heard over the water.

He walks to the kitchen and starts brewing coffee, trying to recognize the song playing from the bathroom. He opens the cabinet, reaching in without looking, and is surprised when he recognizes his own coffee cup; the one Emily had taken with her after they had spent their first night together.

Reid continues to stare at the cup, trying to concentrate on the rush of emotions that are currently racing through him. After a moment, he sets the cup back in its place before reaching for a different one. He turns and watches the coffee maker, trying to organize the current onslaught of thoughts brought about by seeing his old cup. It's Emily's cup now, he doesn't plan on taking it back.

Both he and Emily have transitioned almost seamlessly into their current arrangement. He doesn't use the word relationship, mostly because neither one of them have ever put their relationship into words. The only time that they act like a couple is when they are in one of their apartments. The moment they leave, they are just two coworkers spending time together.

Reid carefully pours his coffee before adding his usual amount of sugar. He uses real sugar, not Splenda. Emily had bought some after he admitted that he only had the artificial sweetener because it was what his neighbor used in her tea. The next morning, Reid had been surprised to see the small canister next to the yellow box.

He puts the canister of sugar back on the shelf, and turns to go to the living room. He quickly glances around the room, looking for any sign of Sergio, before sitting cross-legged on one end of the couch. He hears the shower shut off as he looks around to see how much Emily's apartment has changed within a month.

The changes are almost unnoticeable. There are a few more movies and CDs on the entertainment center than before, and the coffee table is pushed farther from the couch in order to give him more legroom. He knows that the extra pillows from the guestroom are now on Emily's bed, and that the alarm clock is now on the nightstand on the right side of the bed instead of the left. He also knows that she now buys milk by the gallon instead of a small carton.

As he listens to Emily getting dressed, he begins to list all of the ways that his apartment has changed. His new showerhead is the same as hers, and he always has at least one bag of sour cream and onion chips in his pantry. He laughs when he remembers that one of the shelves in his medicine cabinet holds makeup remover, and that there's now an iPod dock on the counter.

He smiles when he sees her walk into the living room, bending at the waist in order to wrap the towel around her head before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

He takes a second to appreciate the moment. He is sitting on Emily's couch drinking coffee on a Saturday morning while she sits opposite him in a t-shirt and jeans with a towel on her head. Maybe they haven't said it out loud, but at that moment, Reid admits to himself that he and Emily are actually a couple. He just smiles again as he continues to sip his coffee.

She leans her head back, letting the weight of the towel rest on the back of the couch. She smells the coffee, and turns her head to face the man sitting near her. He stands and starts making his way to the bathroom. They are a few days shy of it being one month since they've started sleeping together, but she still finds it surreal seeing Reid walk around in baggy pajama pants and a t-shirt.

From the moment she realized that they were approaching the one-month mark, she had been constantly wondering about how to define their relationship. They have not told any of their coworkers, and although they were both trying to keep it private, both had an idea that the others knew. However, no one on the team has said anything to either one of them that would let them know that the team knew.

She brings the towel down and attempts to brush her hair with her hands, fingers catching on random knots. Walking towards her bedroom and tossing the towel at an empty basket before sitting on the foot of her bed, she tries to think about the times her and Reid have discussed their relationship. She doesn't know how she feels when she realizes that they never have. She remembers instances where they've talked about whose apartment to stay at or where to order take-out, but they've never actually discussed the specifics of their relationship. She and Reid have just altered their routines to include the other, as though it were completely normal.

She keeps waiting for a bump in the road, for some form of problem to arise, but so far, none has come. She knows the transition from friends and coworkers to whatever their current relationship status is, has been smooth only because they haven't spoken about it. She's afraid to say it out loud, to ruin what they have. Yet, she wants more than just the continual sleep over.

Emily knows for a fact that they are more than just 'friends with benefits'. Within the last month, she has only slept alone six times, and those were when they were on a case; all of the other nights, Reid has been lying next to her. They haven't had sex each night. Some nights they've been too tired or emotionally exhausted from a case. Those nights, they drive to the closest apartment and watch a movie or just talk. They've never been on a date or shown any form of affection towards one another outside of their apartments. Emily loves the time she spends with Reid; they're together almost every day, but she wants more. She wants to officially be a couple. She knows that when at work, they can only be coworkers, but there is no reason why they can't be a couple after seven o'clock or on the weekends. Hearing the water shut off in the bathroom, she steadies herself for what she's about to do.

Reid walks out of the bathroom, and reaches for his bag at the foot of the bed. Emily scoots back on the bed, bringing her legs up and tucking them under her. She watches as Reid opens the bag and pulls out a pair of pants. "Reid, do you want to go out today?"

She looks up at his face as he begins to change pants, waiting for his answer. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. I just want to go somewhere." She's still watching him as he pulls a shirt over his head, before placing the bag back on the floor. Reid sits on the bed, letting his back lean against the headboard while he grabs a throw pillow and lets his fingers trace along the stitching. She can tell he's thinking by the way he furrows his brow. "We can go get something to eat?"

She starts to crawl towards his end of the bed, taking the pillow out of his lap. "That's something we were going to do anyway. I want to do something fun. It's been way too long since I've gone out."

"We went out the other night."  
>"Yeah, but that was with Garcia. I want to do something…different. You know, just the two of us. Me and you." She begins to trace the same pattern on the pillow, waiting for his answer. When she looks up, she smiles as Reid tilts his head, one side of his mouth turning up to form a crooked grin as he asks in a light tone, "Emily Prentiss, are you asking me out?"<p>

She rolls her eyes before picking up the pillow and swinging it, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "Yes, I am Spencer Reid, but only because you haven't asked me yet."

She smiles as he continues in the same light tone, "I'm sorry. Emily, will you go out with me?"

"Yes." She replies climbing off the bed, before tossing him the pillow and continuing to the bathroom to dry her hair.

"Okay, where do you want to go?" She stops and turns towards him, biting the inside of her cheek as she tries to think of something they will both enjoy. After several seconds of failing to think of anything, she shrugs her shoulders and offers a sheepish grin. "I guess we go and get something to eat. We can think of something while we're eating."

"Isn't that what I suggested to begin with?" She pretends not to hear him as she shuts the door and reaches for the blow dryer.

* * *

><p>It's almost four in the afternoon when Emily and Reid finally make it back to Reid's apartment. Reid walks into the kitchen, and is about to look in the fridge when he hears a knocking at his door. He looks at Emily whom is currently emptying her bag, sorting through dozens of recently purchased postcards, before turning to go to the door.<p>

"Spencer, I was hoping you'd be home." Reid just stands there as Lynette pushes a large, brown, paper bag into his arms. His neighbor just smiles as she walks past him and heads towards his kitchen, an identical bag still in her arms. Confused, Reid follows her into the kitchen, placing his bag next to hers on the counter.

"Have y'all eaten dinner yet?" Reid just shakes his head no and watches as the 62 year old begins to take over his small kitchen. "Good. Spencer, sweetie, go get my cutting board, please." Reid turns to look at Emily, and wonders if he looks as confused as she does.

"Um, Miss Lynette…what's going on?"

"I'm cooking you and your girlfriend dinner. If you're not going to introduce me, I figure I have to do it myself. Jambalaya seems like the best way to me." She turns to Emily and offers her small hand, "Lynette Soileau, sweetie. Please don't call me Mrs. Soileau."

Reid watches as Emily smiles and shakes Lynette's hand, "Emily Prentiss. I prefer Emily." Lynette turns back to the groceries as Emily begins putting away the postcards.

"Spencer, the cutting board should be on the counter." Not knowing what else to do, Reid quietly turns and heads to retrieve the cutting board from his neighbor's apartment.

Emily watches as Lynette begins washing tomatoes and bell peppers. "Emily, have you ever had jambalaya?"

"Not homemade."  
>"Good, you're really gonna enjoy this then." She's still sorting and rinsing vegetables when Reid returns, cutting board in hand. Emily just smiles as he sets the board on the counter between her and himself, before grabbing a knife and the colander of rinsed vegetables.<p>

Emily can't help but stare at his hands as he slowly begins dicing tomatoes. She's spent almost thirty days with him, and yet she's never seen him do anything so domestic. She finally looks away when she hears Lynette searching for a skillet.

"So, Emily, are you the same Emily that Spencer works with?" Emily looks from Lynette to Reid, but she doesn't have a chance to answer. Reid is staring at his neighbor, and Emily is surprised when she sees a touch of anger in his eyes. "Lynette, please don't do this."

"Sweetie, I'm just asking. I'm a little confused, and you haven't exactly been forthcoming with the info lately." She stirs the chicken, adding a little seasoning before continuing, "I'm not judging, nor am I asking for all the little details, I just want to know who I'm dealing with. And boy, don't you go telling me to mind my own business. I've known you for almost ten years. You _are _my business."

Reid lowers his eyes and reaches for a bell pepper before answering in a steady voice, "Yes, Lynette, she's the Emily I work with."

"The same one that died?" Reid stops moving the knife before looking back at Lynette. The woman throws her arms up in mock surrender, and shakes her head. "I'll stop, I promise." Emily doesn't know what to say. She looks at Reid as he continues dicing the bell pepper, constantly biting his lower lip. She decides to get his attention, slipping one hand across the counter to steal a piece of the pepper. When he looks at her, she winks before putting the pepper in her mouth and turning to Lynette.

"Miss Lynette, do you always cook for Reid?"

"When I know he's home. I try to cook for him at least once a week. The last few weeks though, he either hasn't been home, or he comes in too late." Lynette turns the fire down on the chicken before turning towards Emily, smiling with one eyebrow arched high on her brow.

Emily just smiles, "I suppose the last few weeks have been a little off schedule." She looks towards Reid and is glad to see that his shoulders have relaxed. Emily picks up the stack of postcards, and begins looking through them again.

"What are those for?" Emily looks up to see Lynette staring at the cards in her hand.

"Oh, Reid and I went sightseeing today, and I bought a few postcards at each stop."

"Sightseeing? Don't you live here?"

Emily chances a quick glance at Reid, and has to use every bit of her self-control not to reach up and slap that grin off his face. When she had suggested they spend the day going sightseeing, visiting all of the 'touristy' places in D.C., Reid had said almost the exact same thing.

"Yes, but I've never visited all of the monuments, and I haven't been to the museums in years."

"But why the postcards?"

It's Emily's turn to grin as she hands the stack of cards to the woman, "I've always collected postcards of places. I get one for each country or state I go to. They're kind of like surrogate photos."

Lynette just smiles and nods her head as she flips through the postcards. "So what does your boss think of you two?"

"Lynette." Reid sets the knife down and turns to the woman.  
>"What? It's an honest question."<p>

Emily decides to speak up before Reid has a chance, "He hasn't said anything. I think we're all pretending that there is no 'us'." Emily watches as that arched eyebrow begins to rise again.

"Is it against the rules?" Emily slowly shakes her head, "No, it's just that our team's kind of been under the microscope lately, and this…might ruffle a few tail feathers."

"So you're just going to keep it a secret?" When she says the word 'secret', Lynette turns eyes to Reid, watching as he begins to cut an onion. "Are you sure that's wise, you know, keeping _secrets_ from your _bosses_?"

Emily has to stop herself from falling off her stool when Reid answers Lynette, voice calm, steadily dicing the onion, "She knows about the Dilaudid, Lynette."

Lynette watches Reid for a few seconds before turning her attention to Emily, a mixture of sadness and satisfaction on her face. "Were you on the team then?" Emily just nods, still too shocked to actually bring herself to form words.

"Lynette, can we please change the subject." Reid is watching Emily now, trying to figure out what's going through her head. Lynette turns and begins stirring the chicken, before answering in a soft voice, "Sure sweetie." She starts to measure out cups of rice, but stops and turns to Emily. "Oh, and Emily, just so you know, despite whatever Spencer may tell you later when I leave, I am _not_ nosey. I just like to know what the fuck's going on."

Reid laughs at the surprised look on Emily's face before turning to the woman at the stove, "Lynette, I think that _is_ the definition of 'nosey'."

"Well, sweetie, once again that just shows that you think too much."

* * *

><p>It's almost eight when Lynette leaves for the night. Reid walks her to the door as Emily puts enough leftovers for ten people in the fridge. She grabs her cup of tea and walks into the living room, sinking into the couch as Reid starts thumbing through the collection of DVDs next to the television.<p>

"Well, that was fun." Reid turns and looks at her, face contorted in a slight grimace, before choosing _Casablanca_ to put in the DVD player. "I suppose it could have been worse."

"I like her, Reid, and I don't want to toot my own horn, but I think she likes me." Emily just grins as Reid hands her the remote before kicking off his shoes.

"I think she likes you, too. I just wish she wasn't so nosey."

"She said you'd say that."  
>"Yeah, well she knows me." Emily lets her smile fade as she turns to face Reid more directly. "She does know you. She knew about what had happened with me," Emily watches as Reid turns to look at her, eyes once again full of emotion, "She knew about Georgia."<p>

"She doesn't really know about all of it." Emily waits as she sees him try to think about what he wants to say. "When I first moved here, she immediately was under the impression that I couldn't take care of myself. She's been cooking for me like that ever since I helped her carry groceries up one day. She is nosey, but she means it for the best. She's also really smart, and knows when to draw the line. Well, most of the time." Emily brings her legs up onto the couch and tucks her toes under his thigh as he continues to talk. "I don't tell her everything, I mostly just listen to her tell stories about life. After Doyle, she knew that I was upset, and I told her a friend had died. When you came back, I told her the dumbed-down version of the truth; that you weren't really dead and that you were back."

Emily sets her tea on the coffee table before looking back at him. "Did you tell her about Georgia?"

"No, she saw when Morgan and Gideon helped me home afterwards. I'm not really sure what they told her, but she's never asked me about what happened." Reid shifts uncomfortably, eyes scanning the anti-pirating warning on the screen. "And before you ask, I didn't tell her about the Dilaudid either. She was a registered nurse for thirty years in New Orleans. I think she knew about it before any of you did."

Emily keeps her eyes on him, not really knowing what to say.

"She called me your girlfriend." She relaxes when she sees the corner of his mouth twitch into one of his crooked grins.

"She did."  
>"You didn't say anything different."<br>"Neither did you."  
>"I know." Emily just smiles as she pushes play.<p>

**A/N: Okay, educational time: Les Cowboys Fringants is a band out of Québec. They only sing in French. I chose that band because the CD case was on my desk. I chose The Offspring's song to be Emily's favorite simply because that was the song that my playlist decided to spit out at the moment.**

**The name Soileau is pronounced 'swallow'. It's a real name. I'm originally from Louisiana, and it's a name I heard often.**

**Jambalaya is a rice, casserole type dish. It most commonly has chicken and sausage in it. I love it. That and gumbo. And Chinese food.**

**Lynette is a mixture of my grandmother, whom I call Nana, and the woman I lived with when I studied abroad. **

**It's 3:23 AM right now, I should be sleeping.**

**I'm currently unemployed, so reviews would really help cheer me up. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Had a little case of food poisoning. That's why it took so long for the update. You might notice it influenced this chapter a bit. Slight warning for mentions of vomiting. Personally I don't think it's a big deal, but my sis was all, "Um, that's kind of gross." In case any of you are as squeamish as her, beware.**

* * *

><p>He keeps his eyes closed as his head bounces against the window for the third time since Morgan had turned the SUV unto the dirt road. Every few moments, the vehicle's tires find a bump in the road, briefly tossing the passengers around in their seats. As Morgan drives over another hole, Reid finally surrenders and lifts his head from its resting place, immediately missing the cool feeling of the glass against his forehead.<p>

"I hate the country." Reid keeps his eyes closed, fighting the feeling of nausea threatening to overtake him. Morgan glances at the rearview mirror, eyeing the few beads of sweat along his friend's brow. "Hey man, you need me to pull over?"

"No," forcing his eyes open, Reid quickly looks Morgan in the eyes, trying to offer a reassuring smile, before turning to look at the many trees passing by, "I'm fine." Rossi eyes the younger man, noticing the way he has one arm slung protectively across his middle. When the SUV hits another bump, he watches as Reid reaches for the door, gripping the handle with such force that his knuckles turn white.

"Alright Morgan, pull over. I think he's gonna be sick." Reid doesn't even look at Rossi as the car suddenly stops. He quickly opens the door and leans out, immediately releasing the small amount of food he had managed to eat that morning. He takes several deep breaths, in an effort to stop his body from shaking, before pulling the door shut and leaning his head back.

"You okay, kid?" Reid turns his head towards Rossi, keeping his eyes closed, "Yeah, I'm fine." Rossi continues to stare at the man, a look of annoyance and worry etched on his face. "That's what you said a few minutes ago."

Reid opens his eyes, quickly replying, "I feel better than I did then." He pulls both hands into fists as a sharp pain pulses through his abdomen. "I think I've got a bug."

Morgan looks at the man in the backseat once more before he begins to drive again. "Yeah, well you can thank Prentiss for that one. If I so much as get a fever, I'm gonna shoot her." Rossi laughs, but Reid just smiles.

He remembers waking up in the middle of the night to find Emily sitting on the bathroom floor, forehead resting against her arm, which was propped on the toilet seat. He had quickly wet a washcloth and filled a glass with water before sitting down beside her, letting his back lean against the bathtub. "What do you need me to do?" Upon hearing his voice, she had looked up and replied with as much seriousness as she could, "I think I'm dying." He didn't laugh; he simply handed her the washcloth and water. "Do you want to go to the doctor?" She shook her head no, and returned her head to its resting position. He stood up, offering a quick, "I'll be right back," before heading to the kitchen. He put a fresh trash bag in the garbage can and placed it on Emily's side of the bed, before returning to the bathroom, helping her stand and walk back to the bedroom. He had gotten up every time she was sick, rinsed the washcloth out, and refilled her glass of water.

Four days later, Reid isn't surprised that he's beginning to get sick. They finally reach the main road, the car bumping one last time before the tires make the transition onto the smooth surface of the highway. He feels the nausea begin to subside now that the SUV is no longer bouncing along the country road. He once again allows his head to rest against the window's cold surface as he listens to Rossi's half of a phone conversation.

A quarter of an hour later, he slowly unbuckles his seatbelt as the SUV pulls into the parking lot of the town's small police department. Once inside the building, he bypasses the interrogation room and is heading towards the empty conference room when Morgan places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Turning his body so that they are facing one another, Reid looks questioningly at Morgan.

"How's your stomach?" Morgan offers Reid a bottle of water as he waits for the man to answer.

"Not so bad at the moment," Reid takes a tentative sip before continuing, "I didn't start feeling sick until about an hour ago." He takes another sip, letting the cool water soothe his throat, washing away the taste and burn of stomach acid. He turns and continues heading towards the conference room, Morgan following close behind.

Reid sits in the chair farthest from the door, slumping over so he can lay his fevered cheek against the cool wood of the table. He jumps slightly when someone pulls out the chair to his right. He looks up to see Rossi lowering himself into the seat, while Emily and JJ grab chairs on his left.

He leans back in his seat and runs a tired hand through his hair before reaching for the water bottle. He sits up as Hotch walks into the room and tosses a folder onto the table, irritation radiating off him in waves. "Reynolds asked for a lawyer. As soon as the interrogation's over, we can head home." Reid nods silently as he swishes the water around in his mouth before swallowing. He knows the stomach bug is only just getting started, and he's glad he wont be forced to endure the worst of it away from home.

Sitting the bottle back on the table as the sharp pain returns, shooting through his stomach, Reid quickly stands in an attempt to make it to the restroom. He feels his mouth watering, knowing that he's about to be sick again. Before he can properly get out of the chair, Rossi grabs the nearest trashcan and hands it to Reid. Grasping the trashcan with both hands, Reid falls back in his chair as the water he drank moments earlier makes its way back up.

He lets his forehead rest against the rim of the trashcan as he waits for the whirring in his ears to subside. He's aware of someone speaking, but he ignores them, choosing to focus his attention on the uneasiness in his stomach. He only looks up when JJ places a hand on his arm. She's giving him an expectant look, as though she's waiting for him to do or say something.

Looking at the many concerned faces around the room, Reid realizes that someone had said something to him. Sensing Reid's confusion, Hotch repeats his self as he sits in the chair at the end of the table. "Go back to the hotel with JJ and Prentiss, you can rest there until it's time to go."

Reid nods as he returns the trashcan to its original place before reaching for the water bottle and following the two women out of the room. Once in the car, Emily turns to Reid in the backseat, "You could have told me you were sick."

"I didn't feel sick until I got to Reynolds's place. It's not that bad." He notices that JJ is watching him, too. He gives both women a short, crooked smile and leans his head back as JJ starts the car and begins to drive to the hotel.

Noticing that Emily keeps glancing at him, Reid turns his head to see her giving him an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry you caught my bug."

"I think I'm dying, but I forgive you." She laughs as she remembers having told him almost the same thing several days earlier. Seeing JJ look at her through the corner of her eyes, Emily faces forward, deciding to wait and talk with Reid when they are alone.

She's relieved the case is almost over. They had flown out the day after she returned to work from her stomach bug. Though she was no longer vomiting, she had still felt weak, making it difficult to remain composed while staring at three decapitated fourteen year olds. They had been lucky enough to catch Reynolds early the following evening, even luckier to find that his sixth and seventh victims were still alive.

Seeing that they were approaching the hotel, she resisted the urge to turn and look at Reid. She knows how he's feeling, she also knows he's only going to feel worse over the next day or so. It had started as a small wave of nausea that came out of nowhere while she was sitting at her desk. By the time she had gotten home, she knew she was really sick, a fact that became apparent when Reid had found her on his bathroom floor at two in the morning.

She had hoped that no one would catch her bug, and as each day passed without anyone feeling sick, she had started to think that no one would. However, walking in that room and seeing Reid with his head down, she knew he had caught it. Emily pushed aside the feelings of guilt, deciding it would be better to face them once they were back home.

Once on their floor, Emily watches as JJ and Reid each head to their individual rooms, before she pulls out her keycard and enters her own. It only takes a few minutes to get all of her stuff together. She sets her packed go-bag on the foot of the bed and quickly glances around the room to make sure she hasn't forgotten anything. Tossing her jacket over her bag, she grabs her keycard and heads to the door.

Emily's not surprised to see JJ lightly knocking on Reid's door. She could tell her friend was worried about Reid the moment they had walked into the conference room. Emily had quickly equated the look that had crossed JJ's face when Reid had become sick with the same one that had crossed her face when Henry would cry while getting vaccinations- the mother knew her baby was hurting, and she in turn was hurting because there was nothing she could do to stop it.

When Emily had first joined the team, she had been jealous of the friendship that Reid and JJ shared. She never thought there was anything romantic between the two. She just knew they were incredibly close, and she wished she could have that strong of a connection with him. It hadn't taken long for those feelings of jealousy to dissipate, though they had never completely disappeared, at least, not until seven weeks ago.

Everyone knows that she and Reid are close, she just isn't sure they know _how_ close. Part of her wants to ask if they know, and if they don't, she wants to tell them. She wants to walk in JJ's office and say, "Hey, guess what I did last night." Instead, she plays pretend, gracefully going through the motions, making sure not to act as though she's anything more than his friend.

Emily crosses the hall as Reid opens the door. He looks confused, not certain why they are standing there. JJ simply smiles and asks, "Well, can we come in?" Emily smiles as recognition crosses his face and he steps aside, allowing both women to come in. JJ walks in first, and as Emily passes Reid, she quickly places her hand on his chest, removing it before JJ can turn around.

She tries to keep her face passive when Reid shuts the door and passes two fingers along her lower back, before walking to the bed to sit near the headboard. She notices that JJ is looking around: seeing files and pens strewn across the table, dirty clothes in a neat pile next to his go-bag, and an open toiletry bag sitting on a chair. Emily picks up the dirty clothes, placing them in his bag, before zipping the toiletry bag, placing it on top of the dirty clothes. At the same time, JJ is grabbing the numerous pens and markers that litter the paper covered table.

"Guys, I can get that." Both women turn to look at Reid. The fact that he is still sitting on the bed and not standing to stop them, tells them just how sick he feels. Emily is rearranging the bag's contents, trying to make the bag easier to close. She gives a short laugh and a soft roll of her eyes, "Reid you're sick. We're packing for you. Get over it." She turns to see him squint his eyes at her before shrugging his shoulders, and slumps over, letting his head fall on the pillow. He looks at JJ and asks, "What time do we have to check out?"

JJ is neatly placing the files and folders into Reid's messenger bag. She waits until the last folder is put away before she answers him. "Whenever Hotch calls and tells us to." She smiles brightly at him, before beginning to straighten the buckles on the bag that now rests in her lap. Reid reaches his arm over his head, grabs the remote off the nightstand, and tosses it to Emily. "Here, you can find something to watch." He kicks his shoes off and pulls his feet onto the bed, "Nothing stupid, though."

Emily smiles as the TV clicks on. JJ laughs and asks, "What counts as 'stupid'?" Flipping through the channels, Emily waits for a reply. When none comes, she looks at JJ and gestures to Reid, "He is _not_ a Johnny Depp fan."

JJ immediately turns to Reid, a look of mock disbelief on her face. "How can you not love Johnny Depp?" Ignoring JJ's pretend glare, Reid looks to Emily and says in a matter-of-fact voice, "I hated the movie, not the actor."

"Reid, you've hated every movie you've seen with him in it."

"All of them were really bad movies. It's just a coincidence that he happened to be in all three."

"Fine then, Reid, name one movie with Johnny Depp in it that you don't hate."  
>"I can't. I haven't seen any other movie with him in it."<p>

"That's because you don't like…" Emily's argument is interrupted when she feels Reid get off the bed, rushing to the bathroom. A few seconds later, she grimaces when she hears him begin to dry heave.

She is about to get up to go check on him when she notices JJ staring at her intently. Emily mutes the TV and drops the remote on the bed. "What?" JJ's mouth forms a tight-lipped smile, while she tilts her head and shakes it slowly. "Nothing, I'm just wondering when you and Reid have the time to watch so many movies."

Emily feels a brief flutter of panic in her chest, before she calmly smiles and looks JJ straight in the eyes. "Every now and then, we have a movie night." She stands and begins to slowly walk backwards towards the bathroom. "We got the idea from Morgan and Garcia." The lie rolls off her tongue so smoothly, it almost feels like the truth. Turning so that her body is angled toward the bathroom and JJ at the same time, Emily watches as Reid stands up and turns the sink on. She knows he heard what they said. As he turns the water on, he looks at her, one eyebrow arched questioningly.

Emily places one hand on the doorframe, "Are you okay?" Reid nods as he cups water in his hands, whispering, "Yeah, I'm good." She walks back to the bed, and picks up the remote. JJ sets Reid's messenger bag on the table, reaching for the ringing phone in her pocket. She looks at Emily and asks, "He okay?" before pressing the phone to her ear. Emily just nods as JJ listens to the speaker on the other end of the phone.

JJ finishes the call as Reid walks back in the room. She waves the phone at both Reid and Emily, smiling as she says, "Time to go. Morgan said they're on their way here." Reid reaches across her for his messenger bag and laughs as she looks at him and asks, "Seriously, you don't like Johnny Depp?"

* * *

><p>On the way to the airport, Hotch hands Reid a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, which Reid gratefully accepts. He takes a large sip, and tries not to gag when the thick texture of the medicine coats his tongue, chasing it with several sips of water. Picking the seat nearest the bathroom, Reid fastens his seatbelt and tries not to think about the four hours it will take to get home.<p>

He keeps his eyes closed as the small plane begins its ascension. It isn't until after the plane levels off that he begins to feel the familiar pull of nausea. He stands, intending to go to the plane's small lavatory, but only manages to make it to the sink next to the small coffee pot before he starts to throw up. Leaning over the sink, he keeps one hand on his stomach, desperately wishing the pain away.

Sensing someone standing next to him, he quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He's a little shocked to see that the back of his hand is now black instead of bubble-gum pink, but not as shocked as Emily. "Oh my god, why is it _black_?" Reid looks at her, and laughs at the complete look of horror that's taken over her face.

"It's a chemical reaction. The bismuth subsalicylate in the medicine combines with trace amounts of sulfur in your saliva, forming the black color."

Morgan hands him a paper towel, trying to avoid looking in the sink, he says, "Whatever, man. It's gross. You looked like something out of a sci-fi movie."

"It's fine. It's just…" Reid's sentence is cut-off as the remainder of the water and medicine makes its way back up, once again coating the bottom of the sink in black.

"Like I said man, gross."

Reid starts to rinse the sink out, wiping his mouth with the paper towel. "At least you don't have to taste it." Morgan just crinkles his nose, muttering "nasty" as he walks back to his seat.

Emily smiles briefly, before crinkling her nose and placing a hand on Reid's shoulder. "It _is_ kind of gross." Reid just rolls his eyes and proceeds to rinse out his mouth.

* * *

><p>Five hours later, Reid follows Emily into his apartment. Dropping his bags at the front door, he begins to undress on the way to his bedroom. He holds on to his tie as he begins to unbuckle his belt, before pulling at his shirt. Once he makes his way to his bedroom, he tosses his tie on his dresser and pulls his half unbuttoned shirt over his head. He quickly pulls on a t-shirt before kicking off his shoes and pants. Finally making it to the bed, Reid throws back the covers and lies on his stomach, not caring to pull the blankets back over himself.<p>

Emily had watched as he made his way towards his room. She walked through the door in time to see him let himself fall onto the bed. Feeling that now is the time to let the guilt take over, she quickly readies a trashcan to place by his bed, along with a wet washcloth and a bottle of water.

"Reid, I have to go check on Sergio. While I'm there, I'm gonna get some crackers and ginger ale. Do you want some more Pepto before I go?" Seeing Reid vigorously shake his head, letting her know he will probably never drink the pink medicine again, she quickly pulls the blankets over his slight frame, before turning to leave. "I'll be gone less than an hour, I promise."

Reid hears her leave, silently hating the cat even more. Pulling the blanket up over his shoulders, he buries his head in the pillows. He tries to block out the slow, but constant throb of pain behind his eyes, the result of excess vomiting. After several minutes, he begins to fall asleep, despite the steady rhythm in his head.

* * *

><p>It takes Emily a lot longer to get to her apartment than usual, despite the late hour. She quickly locks her front door, before checking to make sure Sergio has enough food and water. Grabbing an empty grocery bag, she begins gathering foods she thinks Reid might be able to keep down after the bug begins to subside. She's reading the ingredients on a can of soup, when someone starts knocking at her door.<p>

It's almost midnight, and she knows none of her neighbors would be coming to visit her. She quietly puts the soup on the counter, before reaching for her gun. She's almost to the door, when she hears the faint knock again. "Emily, it's JJ. I saw your light was on."

Emily puts her gun away, and swings the door open, letting out a frustrated sigh. "JJ, you scared the hell out of me." JJ smiles apologetically, and steps inside. Emily closes the door, locking it once more, before turning to face her friend. "Is something wrong?"

JJ gently shakes her head as the apologetic smile slowly turns to one of embarrassment. "I just need to… well, I wanted to talk to you." Emily nods, as the slight flutter of panic returns. "But nothing's wrong?" JJ starts playing with the belt on her coat, before looking Emily in the eye.

"Emily, please don't hate me, but I'm just going to come right out and ask it. Is there something going on between you and Spence?"

The slight flutter of panic is now threatening to beat a hole in Emily's chest. She takes all of two seconds to gather her wits, before responding. "JJ, before I answer, tell me what makes you think something's going on between me and Reid."

JJ's eyes widen, and both eyebrows shoot towards her hairline. "Oh, my god. Emily…"  
>"Wait, I haven't said yes or no, I said <em>before<em> I answer…"  
>"Emily don't give me that crap, you're evading the question."<p>

"JJ…"

"Okay, how serious is it? I mean, are you sleeping together?"

"JJ…" The slight pleading in Emily's voice told JJ the answer. Seeing the broad smile starting to form on JJ's face, Emily quickly grabbed the other woman's shoulder. "JJ you _cannot_ tell _anyone_."

"You and Spence! Oh, my god. This is great. I mean… you and Spence," lightly pushing on Emily's shoulder, JJ can't stop smiling. "Don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone."

Emily looks at JJ, slight worry etched on her face, "JJ, we want to avoid trouble. I know it's not against the rules, but everything that's happened in the last year…I don't think we're even ready to tell anyone yet."

"Emily, I get it. I didn't want to tell anyone about Will. I just…you are two of my best friends, and I needed to know, you know?" Emily nods and starts walking towards the kitchen, motioning for JJ to follow her. "Em, I won't tell anyone. Does _any_body know?"

"I honestly don't know. Well, Reid's neighbor knows, but we haven't told anyone on the team. If they do, they haven't said anything to us."

"How long has this been going on? Was it after Houston?" Emily finally smiles for the first time since JJ arrived. Realizing that JJ thinks that she and Reid have only been together two weeks, she laughs lightly. "JJ, this started almost two months ago."

JJ lets her jaw drop slightly, before saying in a offended manner, "Emily, these are the types of things friends tell one another."

"Well, it's more like six weeks, almost seven." Emily puts the rest of the groceries in the bag, before grabbing her keys. JJ looks from the bag to Emily, "Um, what are you doing?"

"Reid doesn't really have groceries, and I doubt he could keep pop-tarts down right now."

"You're going back over there?" Emily looks at JJ, surprised that her friend thought otherwise. "Well, yeah. He took care of me when I was sick. And since I'm the reason he's sick…" Emily lets the sentence drop.

"How often do you two spend the night?"

Emily shrugs her shoulders while she reaches for her coat. "Almost every night. We take turns between here and there. Reid and Sergio aren't exactly best friends."

"The occasional movie night my ass." JJ smiles as she follows Emily to the door. "Seriously, though, Emily, I'm _really_ happy for you. For both of you."

"Thank you…Believe it or not, JJ, this really did start as a movie night thing. I had invited him over to watch _The Count of Monte Cristo_ and one thing led to another."

"Did you actually watch _The Count of Monte Cristo_?" JJ asks the question, her voice taking on a mocking tone.

Emily just smiles, as she opens her door. "Yeah, we watched it. About a week later."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That whole Pepto-Bismol turning your mouth black is totally real.**

*****GROSS ALERT*** I had taken Pepto-Bismol and thrown it right back up. My sisters told me I looked like one of the Leviathan things the Winchester boys are trying to kill off of _Supernatural_. **

**Again, I apologize for the long update time. I was on page three yesterday, but seeing that they had a Reid-based episode last night, and the promise of an Emily-based one next week, well, it was like the cosmos were screaming, "Write, Blayne, write." I haven't gone to sleep yet, and it's 8:39 am, but I've got eight pages to post!**

**To em6049: I tried to include more of the team members. I plan for there to be some more interaction, just not sure if I want everyone knowing just yet, or who I want to find out next.**

**Thank you, once again to lolyncut, Spemilyfan, LoveforPenandDerek, sleeplessinrio and all other reviewers/favoriters/alerters. **

**And though I'm not screaming it, I am asking in my outside voice to please review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: When I finished the last chapter, I had no idea where to go from there. I had several scenarios played out in my head, but I couldn't decide what to do. So, I asked a complete stranger. While in Walgreen's shopping for contact solution, I asked an older woman if she was familiar with the show Criminal Minds. When she said yes, I summarized the story so far and explained my dilemma. She helped me decide what to do, but I get the feeling she likes the idea of Rossi/Emily more than Reid/Emily, but to each his own. Anyhoo, thank you Walgreen's lady, thank you.**

**By the by, I'm either not good at writing case fics, or I don't care to. Either way, the case that's in this chapter is just to move the story along, that's why there isn't a lot of info on it.**

**Oh, remember the whole 'M' rating thing? (That's me subtly hinting that this chapter's gonna be mildly smutty throughout.) **

He waits for his nerve endings to adjust to the heat of the water. The shower is hotter than he's used to, but his sore muscles welcome the relief. The snow had caused the electricity to go out in the middle of the night, leaving their entire block in complete darkness and with a lack of heat. Despite the space heater and the extra layers of clothing and blankets, he and Emily had spent the better part of the night shivering beneath the covers before the cold became too much and they were forced to migrate to Reid's apartment, despite ice covered roads. His entire body ached, a result of the constant shivering, and he wanted nothing more than for his body to absorb every ounce of heat from the water.

Three days had passed since he had woken up to Emily getting ready for work while she informed him about how JJ had confronted her. At the time, he hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly how he felt about the news. He had assumed that everyone knew, and they just weren't saying anything about it. However, hearing Emily recount JJ's surprise upon hearing Emily's confirmation of her suspicions, Reid had begun to wonder if, perhaps, the other team members didn't know.

Letting the water beat against the back of his neck, Reid decides to push any worry on the matter to the side. Emily seemed assured that JJ wouldn't tell the team about them, and if the team were to find out, they would deal with that obstacle when it came. Reid reluctantly turns off the water and reaches for a towel. Stepping out of the shower, he makes his way to the sink, making certain he avoids the litter box now stationed beneath the bathroom's counter. Until the power is restored in Emily's building, Sergio will be staying at Reid's, a fact that Reid is less than happy about.

Emily sits on the bed, handheld mirror in one hand as she skillfully applies mascara with the other. Placing the cap back on the tube, she lightly kicks her foot towards Sergio, causing him to jump off the bed. Despite the fact that Reid had yet to say anything about the cat's presence in his apartment, she's still aware of his discomfort. She remembered the look on Reid's face when the cat had immediately leaped onto his side of the bed after Emily had sat the cat down. She's grateful he hasn't complained, and wants to make sure he doesn't have reason to.

She's just finishing putting away her make-up when Reid walks out of the bathroom. He's wearing a pair of dark pants, and Emily can't help but notice that the zipper and button are still undone, causing the pants to rest low on his hips. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks down as he begins to button his shirt. Emily watches as a bead of water drips from the end of his hair and starts to make a path down the back of his neck. Once the water droplet disappears into Reid's collar, she focuses her attention on his hands as his fingers quickly move from one button to the next.

Glancing at the clock, Emily struggles to decide whether or not she is willing to risk them being late for work. Seeing that he is about to stand up, Emily quickly scoots next to him, causing him to stop and stare at her. He's about to ask her what she's doing when she stops him with a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

She stares at his mouth for a moment, before bringing her eyes up to meet his. Seeing that familiar look in his eyes, the once unknown emotion, she smiles and asks, "You know what we haven't done in a while?"

"We're gonna be late for work." He says the words as he allows her to gently push him into a lying position. She leans over him, kissing him fully this time, before slowly sliding her knee up the inside of his thigh. "We've got time. Besides it's been like, what? Two weeks?"

"Seventeen days." She smiles as she feels his body start to respond to her. She knows exactly how long it's been. Between the case in Houston, Mother Nature, her being sick, a second case, followed by him getting sick, they hadn't been able to be together in the way she wanted. Sure, seventeen days wasn't an extremely long time, in fact, she had gone longer, but why go without when you don't have to?

She's planting kisses along his jaw while her hands find their way to the bulge beneath his still unfastened pants. His hands start to work their way under her shirt, pulling the material with them. She straddles his waist, sitting up slightly so he can pull her shirt the rest of the way over her head. She lets her fingers play along the waistband of his underwear, enough to get his attention but not enough to move the fabric out of the way.

Smirking, she starts to slide down the length of his body, making sure to maintain eye contact. She playfully kisses the area just below his navel. She knows if she teases him and gets him worked up, he'll eventually get payback the moment he has the chance. He always does. That is probably the one thing that surprised her the most about him. The fact that the shy and awkward man she knew at work is anything but shy and awkward when it came to the bedroom never ceases to amaze her. Yes, he shows embarrassment when in public, and he may be awkward in the beginning, but get him alone and let him know that you're willing and he'll deliver every time. He may not look or act like a man with a lot of experience, but he makes sure that she comes at least once every time—twice more often than not.

His complete understanding of the human anatomy coupled with an eidetic memory and knowledge of every erogenous zone on the female body has taught her that his genius extends to areas far outside the realms of academics and the BAU. She learned early on that Reid gave as good as he got, sometimes more. Emily can remember several times that he had actually made her beg. Making her way to sit between his legs, she wants to see if she can do the same to him.

She rests her hands on the top of his thighs, before slowly letting them move towards where his legs meet. They both jump when they hear Reid's phone begin to vibrate on the nightstand, but both choose to ignore it; letting the call go to voicemail. It isn't until they hear the musical chime of Emily's phone that they realize their plans are going to have to wait.

Trying to offer Reid a look that conveys how sorry she is, Emily stands and reaches for her phone. "Prentiss." Standing in her bra and pants, she listens to Garcia telling her to meet the team at the airstrip as soon as she can. Reid slowly sits up, letting his elbows rest on his knees while he watches Emily on the phone. She's leaning against the dresser, one hand sitting on her bare hip. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Emily slides her phone into her pocket before walking towards the nightstand and picking up Reid's phone. "Here, she'll probably try calling you again soon." Reid takes the phone and simply nods, before he reaches around and grabs her shirt off the bed. He's about to hand it back to her when his phone starts vibrating again. "Hey Garcia." Emily smiles as she faintly hears Garcia's muffled reply. "Hey yourself, sleepyhead. You got to wakeup and meet your peeps at the airstrip." Offering Emily her shirt back, he furrows his brows and mouths, "My peeps?"

Emily begins gathering their things as she listens to Reid talk with Garcia while thinking about how the other woman had called him 'sleepyhead'. Reid had been awake for over an hour, but his voice sounded as though he had just woken up. She smiles knowing it's not sleep that's making him sound like that.

When Emily first met Reid, she noticed that his voice seemed to change depending on the situation and his mood. She had gotten in the habit of labeling each variation. She referred to the way he spoke slower, and quieter when he was concentrating really hard on something he didn't quite understand, or was still in the process of figuring something out as his "thinking" voice. That was usually followed by the "eureka" voice; a higher pitched, quick paced flow of words explaining whatever realization or conclusion he had come to.

She knew that his voice usually became higher pitched when he was embarrassed, but he usually stopped talking once that happened, causing her to refer to that one as his "bashful" voice. She laughs when it brings to mind a warped image of the seven dwarves.

It was several months after she had joined the team before she had heard his "sleepy" voice. He had fallen asleep in the SUV after returning from a crime scene. At the time, she had been surprised to hear that his voice could get that deep, now she looks forward to it. The only problem is she doesn't know if she should still refer to it as his "sleepy" voice. While his voice tends to drop a few octaves and takes on a husky, almost gravely tenor when he's tired, Emily has come to recognize those same characteristics in the voice he's using now.

She knows that his voice takes on that tired persona when he wants her, easily making it her favorite. At first, she was content with classifying it as his "sleepy" voice, but now she wants to assign it a more appropriate label—one that's more personal and intimate. She doesn't want to just call it his "sex" voice, she wants it to be something that conveys more.

It's a voice he uses when he's with her, when he wants her, and hearing it just makes her want him even more. It's about more than just sex, and Emily refuses to label it as such.

She's adjusting her gun's holster on her belt when Reid stands and tosses his phone on the bed. "She told Morgan to come pick me up. He's already on his way."

"Is that your way of telling me to hurry and leave?"

"No, that's my way of telling you that Morgan's on his way here to pick me up." He's not looking at her, making the sharpness in his voice all the more apparent. Setting her coat on the bed, she walks up and puts her hands on his shoulders. "Hey, are you mad at me?" He looks at her, confusion evident in his hazel eyes. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I started something we didn't get to finish?" He gives a breathy laugh as he turns from her, reaching for his belt. "Emily, I think it will be a cold day in Hell before I get mad at you because you initiated sex…or at least tried to."

"So you sound angry because…?"

"I'm not angry. I'm just, I don't know…frustrated?" He says it as a question, testing the word to see if it fits how he feels. Emily can't help but notice that, once again, her attention is drawn to his hands as he begins to fasten his belt buckle. "You and me, both."

The ride to the airstrip is uneventful, both men appearing content with listening to the radio. It isn't until they're within eyesight of their destination that Morgan decides to break the silence. "You want to tell me what's got you so distracted?"

Reid keeps his eyes on his coffee, one thumb running along the edge of the lid on the disposable cup. "From what am I supposedly distracted?" Morgan rolls his eyes as he leans to turn off the radio. "You've barely said two words since you got in the car. I know you're thinking about something."

A crooked grin makes its way to Reid's face as Morgan pulls the car alongside Hotch's SUV. "Morgan, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't believe me even if I were willing to tell you," Reid replies before he exits the car, leaving behind a slightly confused Derek Morgan.

As soon as Reid sits in the seat opposite Emily, he immediately regrets it. She has already removed her coat, leaving her in the low cut, red shirt he had just taken off of her half an hour before. She's leaning forward as she scans the photos on the tablet resting in front of her, causing the shirt's neckline to expose more than is intended. Reid quickly looks away as someone hands him a file, but he can't help thinking of the soft curve of Emily's breasts barely visible in front of him. He's actually entertaining the idea of switching seats when JJ sits down beside him. She's giving him a wide, bright smile, something Reid's noticed she's done repeatedly since her suspicions about he and Emily were confirmed.

With the knowledge that he isn't getting to move, Reid opens the file he was handed and begins looking through the many photos and documents. At first glance, he thinks he's looking at a war zone-glossy printouts of fires that rise at least thirty feet in the air are spread out amongst snapshots of charred ruins of what, Reid assumes, were once a combination of industrial, commercial and residential buildings. The writing on one of the many fire trucks tells him that they are heading to Idaho.

Reid casts one more glance towards Emily, before she leans back in her seat as Hotch begins to speak. "I know it's early, but I want to thank everyone for getting here quickly. Within the last thirty-six hours, over fifty fires have been set in or around the Boise area. So far, there aren't any deaths, but there are dozens of injuries, not to mention millions of dollars worth of property damage." He buckles his seatbelt as the jet begins to move down the runway. "The timeline and distance between each fire is too spread out for just one unsub, and with each fire, they appear to be getting more brazen. Two hours ago, the police station was targeted, hence the early call."

The rest of the flight is spent discussing details, facts, and theories—offering both Reid and Emily a welcome distraction.

Reid tries to block out to excessive noise echoing throughout the large gymnasium. A large portion of the Boise police force, several members of each fire department, state troopers, and the BAU are packed into the temporary headquarters; each trying to organize the chaos caused by their situation.

Emily walks into the gym to see Reid staring intently at the board and the various images displayed on it. The wind caused by the opened door sends the ends of the pages flying upward, pulling at the tape holding them in place, before they fall back down to their original starting point. Though the building's heat is on, Reid is still in his heavy coat, scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck.

Emily walks the short distance to the "BAU" table and leans against it, imitating Reid's current stance. "They got the fire out. They're hoping the snow will slow them down."

She watches as his eyes continue to alternate between quickly darting from one image to another, to lingering on one in particular. She can tell he's thinking, and is starting to wonder if he even heard what she said. She's getting ready to repeat herself when he finally responds. "It might slow them down, but it won't stop them. We're already up to sixty-two fires."

As soon as the jet had landed, snow had started to fall. The first few hours were just a light dusting; almost no one paid any attention to it. However, now entering the twelfth hour, the snow is beginning to demand attention. Emily watches as the white flakes dance furiously outside the glass door a short distance away. "Well, it's definitely slowing _us_ down." As if to emphasize her point, the wind began to howl—the elevated ceiling causing the noise to amplify.

It was no secret that fire and rescue were having difficulty battling the large number of fires. The constantly falling snow and steady drop in temperature only added to their troubles. Emily turns her attention back to the board in front of her, and a sudden surge of anger and annoyance rushes through her as she glances over the red and blue dots on the map. They had quickly begun working on distinguishing between which fires were caused by their unsubs and which were the work of copycats only wanting to be part of the glory or individuals trying to cash in on a false insurance claim by burning down their property, hoping the arsonists would be blamed. The red dots used to designate the arsonists far outnumbered the blue representing the copycats. However, the large presence of blue dots made Emily feel sick, knowing that many would rather add to the chaos destroying their own city rather than help to stop it.

Reid and Emily both cringe away from the cold as Morgan and JJ walk in and make their way to the table. Hearing Reid mumble "Why is the table this close to the door?" Morgan plops down in a chair and smirks as he starts to pull his gloves off. "Reid, you've lived in D.C. for ten years. It snows every year, you should be use to the cold by now." Reid turns and sits so that he's facing Morgan, "Just because I'm used to it doesn't mean I like it."

JJ sets the plastic bag she brought in with her down on the table. "Emily they were out of baked potatoes, so I just got you fries," she says as she starts passing out Styrofoam containers. Suddenly realizing how hungry he is, Reid graciously accepts his plate, frowning at the olives mixed within his pasta. Morgan looks around the gym before he pulls out a packet of ketch-up. Tearing the packet open with his teeth, he turns to Emily and asks, "Where's Hotch and Rossi?"

"They said they'd get a ride back with the Fire Chief," Emily quickly answers while searching for an extra spork in the bottom of the bag. "They were going to ride by the firehouse before they came back here." Emily removes the plastic wrapper from the spork, and immediately begins eating the small pile of olives that Reid has sorted onto the corner of his plate. "The Chief has info on a series of fires from a month ago. They want us to check if they're related."

Watching as Reid begins to scoop the extra olives and drop them on Emily's plate, JJ silently waits for Morgan to leave for the drink machine. "I can't believe I've never seen it before."

Reid looks at her questioningly before reaching onto Emily's plate to steal a few fries. When JJ doesn't say anything else, Reid asks around a mouthful of fries, "What didn't you see?"

"You two. You're so obviously a couple, it's almost ridiculous." Reid's hand stops halfway to his mouth still clutching a french-fry, but he doesn't say anything. Emily quickly looks over to make sure that Morgan is still out of hearing distance before turning back to JJ. "How are we _so obviously_ a couple?"

Twirling a noodle around the plastic spork in her hand, JJ grins mischievously at her friend. "You do things that couples do, and you don't even realize it. The only thing is, you're doing things that old couples do."

Emily arches a brow and glares at the woman. "Did you just call us old." JJ laughs loudly, before turning to see Morgan begin to walk back to the table, drink in hand. "No, I mean you don't act like a couple whose just beginning to date. You act like a married couple, you know? You skipped the whole 'getting to know each other' phase. It's like you've been together two years instead of two months. You're cute together. It works." She rushes her explanation, whispering the last two sentences as Morgan retakes his seat.

Morgan is about to begin eating when he notices the mildly confused look on Reid's face, the somewhat surprised look on Emily's, and the smug look on JJ's. Looking at the three profilers, he asks in an obviously curious tone, "What'd I miss?"

Reid, Emily, and JJ all quietly shake their heads and continue to eat. Giving a pointed look towards JJ, Emily is about to respond when she's cut off by the cold wind coming through the open door. Reid and Emily, happy for a distraction, immediately start questioning Hotch and Rossi as the two take their seats at the table.

Twenty-one hours after being called to meet at the jet, the team finally gets a chance to rest. It's almost three in the morning before they manage to check into a motel. Although everyone would have preferred to go back home after catching the four men responsible for burning down a large part of the city, the snow and ice had made it impossible.

Morgan groans in frustration when Hotch ends the phone call with their pilot. "All flight's are grounded until the snow stops. Even then, he says we have to wait for them to clear the ice from the runway, and he says that won't happen until the sun's up. We're not going anywhere tonight." Too tired to really care, everyone settles for spending the night in the small motel closest to the airport.

Emily's a little surprised to see that it's only 8:30 in the morning. When she first woke up, she had felt so well rested that she had expected it to be closer to ten or eleven. She walks over and pulls open the curtain, the sound of the metal hangings sliding against one another echo in the room. She's happy to see that the near-blizzard from the night before had slowed to a few snowflakes swirling through the air.

She sits on the edge of the bed, thinking through everything that happened the day before. The events flow in reverse, quickly jumping from one event to the next. Remembering the moments before Garcia called to tell them they had to leave early, Emily smiles. She starts to feel flushed as she thinks about Reid walking out of the bathroom, still in the process of getting dressed.

She glances at the clock once more, mentally debating whether or not she's willing to do this. They had never spoken about it, never actually said they wouldn't fool around on a case; it was sort of silently agreed upon. Remembering the way his voice changed when she had pushed him back onto the bed, she reminds herself that the case is technically over.

Banking on the rest of the team still being asleep, she grabs her cell phone and sends him a quick text: _Are you awake?_ She waits. Almost two minutes later, her phone chimes: _Yes_. She quickly grabs her coat and throws it over the dark t-shirt she fell asleep in. Slipping her bare feet into her shoes, the hem of her pajama pants bunching up over the laces, she grabs her key and opens the door.

Although the snow has slowed to an almost stop, the wind is still strong, instantly causing the ends of her hair to fly in her face. Walking towards his door, she feels a slight pang of guilt at having woke him up, but then she remembers what he had said to her the day before, something along the lines of it being a cold day in Hell before he gets angry with her for initiating sex. Knocking on his door as softly as she can, she looks around at the snow-covered parking lot and remembers the chaos of the last twenty-four hours—she wonders if it counts as a cold day in Hell.

She's beginning to regret her decision, and is about to go back to her room when he opens the door. His hair is sticking up in several places, eyes squinting against the brightness of the snow. She stands there for a second not moving, just looking at him. Seeing that she's starting to shiver from the cold, Reid reaches out and grabs her elbow, pulling her into the room.

He shuts the door and walks back to the bed, sliding beneath the covers. He turns so he's facing her, and pats the bed, inviting her to join him. She kicks off her shoes and tosses her coat and key on the small chair next to the door. She crawls into the bed beside him, feeling the warmth from his body. She scoots as close to him as she can get, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder as her frozen hands grip the material of his shirt.

She can tell he's still sleepy. His eyes are tired, and his voice gives him away. "You're cold." It's not a question, just a short observation. Emily knows he does that when he's trying to wake up. While most of the time he's happy to go into detail about why something is what it is or how something works, when he's sleepy, he becomes a minimalist; choosing to offer the smallest amount of information needed.

She looks up towards his face, and notices the slight stubble. She resists the urge to reach up and run the tips of her fingers along his jaw as she answers. "It's freezing outside." Not wanting to cause him any physical discomfort, she keeps her cold hands on the outside of his shirt as she brings her nose up to rest near his Adam's apple. She gently kisses the nape of his neck, whispering into his skin. "You can help warm me up."

She feels his body shudder as her breath tickles his skin. She brings her mouth up to meet his, kissing him gently as he takes her hand in his. His eyes are cautious, but more awake. "Emily, were on a case…"

"Case is over. We'd be home by now if it weren't for the snow." She places her mouth just below his ear and whispers again, getting another shudder, "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"It's currently being outvoted by my fear of getting caught."

"We won't get caught."  
>"Emily, Rossi is <em>right<em> next door."

"He's still asleep."

"You don't know that. And he could wake up."  
>"We'll be quiet."<p>

Each sentence is followed by a kiss, gradually growing in intensity. She can tell he wants to. He kisses her back, bringing a hand up to her breast. He looks at her, lazy grin beneath dark eyes, "You have to be quiet."

Not giving him time to change his mind, she quickly takes off her shirt. She makes quick work of removing her pants before he moves. He's hovering over her, the fabric of his shirt hanging loosely, falling against her bare chest. He kisses her again, along her jaw, her neck, the spot below her ear.

It's her turn to shudder when he kisses the skin just below her bellybutton, just as she had done to him the day before. She had teased him, and now it's his turn to tease her. She steadies her breath as he rubs a knuckle against the fabric of her panties, barely applying pressure, but enough to get her nerve endings firing. She smirks, remembering he always gives as good as he gets, and now he's getting his revenge.

He kisses her stomach again, before moving to her inner thigh. He's taking his time, intentionally driving her crazy. She knows she's earned it, that she deserves it, but she's beginning to think she's going to loose her mind. She grabs his chin, pulling him up to meet her. He kisses her lips, while slowly sliding a hand along her thigh. She moves her hips, pushing herself against his hand, desperately trying to find the friction she needs.

Maintaining his slow pace, he begins to slip off her panties. When he leans down to kiss her again, she raises her hips to meet his. Feeling him against her, she lets out a breathy moan. "Reid… now, please."

He's done making her wait. Hearing her like this, seeing her look at him with those eyes, he can't help giving her exactly what she wants. He quickly pushes down his pants before sliding into her. He closes his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself as her heat surrounds him. He opens his eyes as he begins to move. She's watching him, biting her lower lip. She moans again, and he drops his head to whisper in her ear. "Emily, you've got to be quiet." When he lifts his head again, she's smiling. "Sorry…forgot."

They move in rhythm with one another, she rising to meet each of his thrusts. She constantly grips the material of his shirt, pulling it against him, before releasing it, only to grab hold again. His pace begins to quicken and she knows he's close, she knows she's close. She vaguely remembers her promise to be quiet. She quickly bites the fabric of shirt, hoping it will muffle her scream as she feels her toes curl, the muscles in her legs squeezing against him.

She rides it out, her body shaking with her release. Three more thrusts, and she feels him finish behind her. She lets her muscles relax, slowly removing her legs from around his waist. For the first time, she notices that he's still fully dressed. His pants are part way between his hips and knees, his shirt wrinkled and stretched from where she had pulled on it.

He pushes himself off of her, lying next to her. Letting her breath return to normal, she turns her head and takes in his appearance. His hair is more disheveled, and his face is flushed, and she can't help smiling knowing she's the reason he looks that way. She pulls the blanket up, ignoring the sheet that's somehow been kicked to the foot of the bed. They don't say anything, choosing to enjoy the quiet. She listens as his breathing evens out, before he eventually falls back asleep.

She lies there with him for an hour more, before she thinks she might be pushing her luck. She gently shakes him awake, "Reid, I should go back to my room. It's almost ten." He doesn't say anything, just nods as she climbs out of the bed to look for her clothes.

He watches as she gets dressed. At least once a day, he thinks about the events that led up to them expanding their relationship past the realm of friendship, and each day he's surprised that everything's worked out as well as it has.

For the most part, his experiences with members of the opposite sex have contained some degree of awkwardness and nervousness, at least on his part. He's never known how to smooth talk his way past the initial weirdness, he's never been confident enough to 'charm' them like Morgan. However, that's not the way it's been with Emily.

He had never really thought about the lack of awkwardness between he and Emily, but after JJ had mentioned it the day before, he couldn't help thinking about it. He can't remember a time when things were awkward between them—the Dilaudid incident was his entire fault, and he doesn't want to count that.

He supposes he was comfortable with her because he wasn't trying to impress her. Yes, he had thought she was pretty the moment he met her, but he didn't entertain the idea of pursuing her romantically. Not until later, at least. Watching as she grabs her coat while turning and blowing him a silent kiss before she walks out the door, he realizes he didn't need to impress her because she already knew everything about him; the good and the bad. It's almost as if she has a better understanding of how his head works, better than anyone else on the team. That's why they work so well. They're comfortable with one another. He starts to think that, in a way, JJ's right.

It's after noon before Hotch calls to tell them they've been cleared to leave. Over an hour passes, before everyone's ready to go. Emily turns in her key, grabs her bag, and follows JJ to one of the SUVs parked outside. She opens the vehicle's back hatch, setting her bag inside before she notices JJ watching her. "What's up, JJ?"

"You're in a good mood."  
>"Do I have any reason not to be?"<p>

"How about the fact that it's almost 2:00, and we still haven't left yet?"

Emily just shrugs and climbs in the backseat. JJ tosses her bag in the back before climbing in beside Emily. "So, why do you still call Reid 'Reid'?" Emily's caught off guard. Knowing no one else can see her, she doesn't bother hiding the surprise on her face. "Because I've always called him 'Reid'. Do you expect me to start calling him 'Spencer', or 'Spence'?"

"I don't know. I was kind of hoping you'd tell me that you call him by his first name in private or something."

Emily sees Reid start to make his way towards the SUV, sunglasses blocking out the re-emerged sun. "I thought about it"

"And…?"  
>"It would feel weird." JJ stares at her. "How would it feel weird? He calls you 'Emily'. You're sleeping with the man. Are you gonna call him by his last name forever?"<p>

Emily doesn't have a chance to answer before Reid jumps in the front seat. He turns around, smiling and innocently asks, "What are you talking about?" When Emily responds with a simple, "you", the smile immediately vanishes.

"Why?" Noting the worry combined with the embarrassment etched on his face, Emily quickly puts him at ease. "JJ wants to know why I call you 'Reid'."

He looks at Emily for a moment, before turning confused eyes towards JJ. "Because that's my name?" JJ smiles playfully before responding. "Yeah. So is Spencer."

"But she's always called me 'Reid'. She only says 'Spencer' when she says my full name."

JJ rolls her eyes before turning exasperatedly towards Emily. Emily simply smiles and says, "Told ya so."

JJ doesn't have time to continue her argument before Rossi jumps in the driver's seat, clearly impatient. He cranks the car and asks to no one in particular, "Are you ready to go home?" before pulling the car onto the highway.

Emily smiles and answers as casually as she can, "Yep, what about you Spencer?" Reid doesn't answer; he simply turns in the seat, offering her a look that's half between surprise and mock aggravation. JJ bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing when she sees Rossi give Emily a questioning glance through the rearview mirror before turning his attention back to the road.

Emily doesn't wait for an answer. She just smiles at Reid, giving him a quick wink, before turning her attention to the snow-covered streets passing by.

**A/N: I absolutely loved the first jet scene from the 150th episode:**

**Hotch: Sergio?**

**Emily: He's the perfect man; he doesn't hog the covers, and he poops in a little box.**

**I don't know why, but I laughed when she said that.**

**Now, I know you formed an opinion about this chapter. Want to share it with the class?**


	8. Chapter 8

"Damn it! I almost had it that time. Did you see?" Reid laughs as Emily searches in the tangled sheets for the quarter she dropped. While searching for the missing coin, she moves her arm, causing the sheet wrapped around her bare frame to slip. She quickly pulls the sheet up to cover herself, but not before giving Reid a full view of her naked torso. Seeing the obviously distracted look on his face, Emily immediately snaps her fingers in front of him, regaining his attention. "Focus on the mission, Dr. Reid."

Smirking, Reid reaches under her knee, retrieving the quarter from its hiding place, and hands it back to Emily. "You're not holding on to it tight enough. It's gonna fall through your fingers every time."

It's been thirty minutes since Emily had asked Reid to teach her a magic trick. They had been lying beside one another arguing about whether they should order Chinese or Indian food. She had just finished pointing out that they could get fried dumplings if they ordered Chinese food when the thought popped into her head. She was watching as he drummed his fingers against his stomach while he thought of a counter-argument to her dumpling proposition. His hands had always fascinated her, even before they had started sleeping together. However, now that she knows how they feel against various parts of her body, she seems to be overly preoccupied with them.

Watching the slight bones dance beneath the skin as he continued the repetitive motion, Emily smiled when the term 'magic fingers' popped into her mind. She remembers the numerous times he had entertained the team on the jet or in the bullpen performing various magic tricks. He had never revealed how most of the tricks were done, but she hadn't been lying next to him naked when she had asked him before.

Cutting him off before he had an opportunity to convince her to concede to Indian food, she quickly rolled into his side. "Will you teach me one of your magic tricks?" She made sure he could feel her thigh pressed against his leg. Obviously caught off guard by the sudden change in topic, he just looked at her. "What?"

"I asked if you would teach me a magic trick." She had been a little upset when he refused to show her one of the more interesting and involved tricks, but after watching him repeatedly show her how to make the quarter disappear and reappear, she had become a little more content.

Now, taking the quarter from his extended hand, she's determined to perfect the trick. She holds the quarter between the pads of her thumb and forefinger, before attempting to maneuver the coin in between the knuckles of her middle and index finger. She smiles proudly when the coin stays in place, safely hidden from view. Reid smiles in return, "Now, make it reappear."

Emily gives him an exasperated look, before she begins to move the quarter back towards her thumb. Once the quarter is positioned back between the tips of her finger and thumb, she playfully sticks her tongue out. She drops the coin twice more before she manages to successfully make it disappear and reappear again. She's distracted from her task when Reid stands from the bed. "Hey, where you going?"

He pulls on his pants as he turns to answer her. "I'm gonna order take-out why you're practicing."

"Chinese?"  
>"Nope." He reaches for the phone on the nightstand, but she quickly leans over the bed in an effort to get to it before him. "Reid, are you seriously planning on making me eat Indian food tonight?"<p>

He slumps his shoulders as he turns to face her. "Are you _seriously_ planning on making me eat _Chinese_ food tonight?" He exaggerates the words, trying to make them sound as whiny as she had. Not having a sufficient counter argument, she tries to think of an alternate proposal. She turns her head when Reid takes the phone from her hand. "I'll just order you Chinese and me Indian. You're too stubborn to give in."

She smirks as she readjusts the sheet around her. "Sounds like a pot calling the kettle black." Suddenly feeling uncomfortable about being the only one naked, she climbs out of bed to get dressed. Listening while he orders her food, she smiles when he asks for a side of dumplings.

She walks to the window and pulls back the curtains. It's dark out, but people are still walking up and down the street, mostly young adults. Several cars pass by, and she wonders about the people driving them—where they're going, who they are, what they do for a living, what their hobbies are. She jumps when she realizes Reid is standing next to her. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing in particular." She takes a step towards him before she wraps her arms around his waist. "I'm just thinking about things..." She blushes when her empty stomach growls, knowing he heard it, too. "…And I'm thinking about food."

"I ordered your dumplings."

"You know you'll end up eating half of them." She feels him laugh, and looks up when she hears him yawn. "Are you sleepy already?"

"Not sleepy, just tired." He kisses the top of her head before pulling out of her arms. "I'm gonna shower before the food gets here." She watches him walk to the bathroom, a slight limp in his step. Turning back to the window, she tries to remember if he had always had the limp. There had been a noticeable limp when he had gotten rid of the cane, but that had only lasted a week or two. What she saw now could barely count as a limp; it looked more like his leg had fallen asleep and he was trying to walk the tingles out. She tries to push the worry to the back of her mind, attributing any soreness in his leg to their recent activities.

She looks around the room, taking in the scattered clothes on the floor and the rumpled bed sheets. She puts the curtains back into position, before walking forward and stripping the sheets off the bed. She gathers the clothes off the floor, and tosses them on top of the discarded sheets before walking to the closet.

She's searching for the extra set of sheets when she hears the shower cut off. She pulls the folded sheets off the shelf, and turns back towards the bed just in time to see Reid walk out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his narrow waist. She's happy to see that there's no trace of a limp.

He notices her watching him as he picks up his bag off the floor. He sets the bag on the bed, and begins to pull out a set of clean clothes. Pulling a t-shirt over his head, he looks up as Emily approaches the bed. "Are you watching me get dressed?"

She tosses the folded sheets unto the bed, shaking her head. "No, I'm not watching you get dressed. I'm just thinking"

"About…?"

"About the fact that we take turns living out of a duffel bag." She waits for him to finish getting dressed before she tosses him a corner of the fitted sheet. "And I've seen you naked, what would it matter if I had been watching you get dressed?"

He starts to pull the edge of the sheet over the corner of the mattress, deciding to avoid the last part of her question. "So, duffel bags?" She rolls her eyes at his evasiveness, before asking, "What if you just left some of your stuff here, and save your go-bag for when we have to go somewhere?"

She pops the top sheet so it will lie flat on the bed, filling the air with the scent of fabric softener. She looks up from smoothing out the wrinkles when he doesn't respond right away. "Reid, I'm not suggesting you move in. We'll just keep a few things at each other's place, instead of dragging them back and forth each time." she assures him when she sees a slight look of concern in his eyes.

He immediately seems to relax when she informs him she's not proposing that they move in together. She isn't sure if she's upset that he appeared panicked at the thought of living with her.

"What sort of things?"

She's a little surprised at the question. "The usual, I guess." She's looking through the closet again, and pulls out a brightly colored quilt she had gotten in Spain that doesn't match anything in the room. When she faces Reid again, he still looks a little confused, and somewhat embarrassed. "Emily, what counts as the usual?"

She laughs a little, but stops when she realizes he isn't joking. "You've never had someone give you a drawer before?" He gives her a look that screams 'are you kidding me?' but warns her not to make fun at the same time. She loves how his eyes can convey multiple emotions at once.

She sets the quilt on the bed and picks up his go-bag. Setting the bag on top of her dresser, she quickly pulls out one of the drawers and empties its contents into another. She carefully transfers his belongings from the bag to the now empty drawer. "Basically, you just leave whatever's in your go-bag here, and when we get back to your place, I'll do the same." She gives him a questioning look, hoping to see if he seems bothered by the idea. She's relieved when she sees a small smile and him slowly nodding his head.

There's a knock at the door, followed by a thick accented "delivery". As he starts to head for the door, Emily calls out, "And just so you know, if you need to, you can use some of my closet space, too."

He smiles as he turns around. "Is that a hint that you'll be using some of my closet space?" She crinkles her nose and gives him a guilty smile as she starts to spread the quilt over the bed.

When she walks into the living room, she sees the container of food resting on the coffee table. A little disappointed to see that his food arrived first, she sits on the couch and turns her head to see him fixing something to drink in the kitchen. Carefully, she lifts the lid on the container and pulls out a small piece of chicken covered in curry sauce.

"I thought you didn't want Indian food." She looks up to see Reid walking to the couch, two glasses in his hands. Knowing she's caught, she smiles and shrugs her shoulders. "It smelled good," she answers as he hands her one of the glasses. He's about to sit down when there's another knock at the door. Setting his glass on the table, he turns to her and says in a playful tone, "You owe me _two _dumplings."

"Why two?"

"One for stealing my food, and the other for being so stubborn." As he turns towards the door, she whispers, "I'm telling you. Pot meet Kettle."

* * *

><p>The next day had gone by at a steady pace. Hotch had called them into the round table room early that morning, informing them that they had thirty-six hours to help the local police build a case against a suspected rapist, or he'd walk free. The team had immediately split up afterwards in order to accomplish more in the limited amount of time.<p>

Reid and Rossi had been assigned the task of examining the rapist's home, something both men dreaded when they learned that they would have to take the stairs to the twelfth story apartment. "I'm too old for this mess." Rossi pants as he turns around the railing marking the tenth floor.

Feeling the strain as the scar tissue pulls against muscle and ligaments, Reid silently celebrates when Rossi leans against the wall to catch his breath. Reid tries to subtly lean all of his weight on his right leg, giving his left knee a well-needed break without alerting Rossi to his discomfort.

"So, Reid..." Rossi takes a couple of breaths, trying to even out his breathing, "…you want to tell me what's going on?"

Reid immediately straightens out his leg, not certain to what Rossi is referring. "What do you mean?"

"You've been acting different lately. I'm just wondering if everything's okay."

"Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?" Reid immediately regrets asking the question once he sees the calculating look on Rossi's face. Not able to take the question back, Reid immediately starts climbing up the last two flights of stairs, hopeful of putting a quick end to the conversation.

Nothing is wrong. Yes, his knee is hurting, but other than that, everything is better than it has been in long time. He has a drawer at Emily's, and she will soon have one at his place. For reasons he can't explain, that knowledge makes him happy, almost excited. It's a sign that they are definitely moving forward in their relationship, he just doesn't know whether or not it's at a normal pace. For all he knows, they could be doing it all wrong. Right or wrong, he's happy with the way things are progressing. He just isn't comfortable discussing it with David Rossi.

"I've just noticed that you, JJ and Emily seem to have a lot going on. I get it, if you don't want to share, but if you do, I can listen." The words indicate concern, but the tone Rossi uses suggests he's knows there's nothing to be concerned about. It's as though he's asking out of curiosity, but out of respect, he avoids broaching the subject head on.

Reid's hand is on the door to the twelfth floor. He pushes it open and steps out of the stairwell, refusing to answer Rossi until several police officers are within eyesight.

"Rossi, nothing's wrong, and we don't have a lot going on. We're just…doing what we've always done." Reid knows it wasn't believable, he had known it wouldn't be before he even said it. But if Rossi can pretend to be ignorant, then so can Reid.

Reid sees that Rossi's about to respond, but is saved when a tall man in a suit walks through the group of officer's. "Are you the FBI guys?"

* * *

><p>Forty-five minutes later, Reid and Rossi are walking down the stairs, both men pretending not to remember their earlier conversation.<p>

Emily is sitting at her desk, waiting for Reid to get back from the police department. It had been a long day, and she wanted to go home and relax. After they had found their unsub's storage locker, the case had pretty much been over. While the man still hadn't confessed, the police had recovered enough of his 'souvenirs' to put him away for a long time.

Enjoying the idea of a warm bed, she decides to forgo another cup of coffee. She hears the elevator open, and the sounds of Rossi and Morgan's voices. Knowing Reid is with them, she mentally checks to make sure that she has all of her stuff together for when he's ready to go.

She gives him a smile as he walks in and sets at his desk. Rossi tosses his jacket onto Morgan's old desk, before sitting in the chair beside it. "I don't know about all of you, but I'm glad this day is over."

Emily stretches her arms above her head, fighting back a yawn as she replies. "Tell me about it. I'm ready to go home." She's caught off guard by a folder smacking her slightly on the back of the head.

"No ma'am, it's girl's night." Garcia smiles broadly, before setting the folder on top of the pile on Emily's desk.

Emily raises an eyebrow at the woman, intentionally trying not to look at Reid. "Since when?"

"Since we finished this case earlier than expected. Now come on, let's go." Seeing the look of protest beginning to form on Emily's face, Garcia quickly begins to argue. "Emily Prentiss, it has literally been forever and two days since we've had a girl's night out. Besides, I already talked JJ into it. You're going. Let's go."

Emily manages to catch a glimpse of Reid out of the corner of her eye. He gives her a slight shrug of his shoulders, letting her know he isn't able to help her out of it. She turns her eyes back to Garcia. "Penelope, … I'm not staying long. I'm too tired for anything more than an hour or two." She says it in a way that tells her friend there will be no negotiating. Grabbing her friend's arm at the elbow, Garcia gladly steers her towards the double glass doors, JJ close behind.

Once in the elevator, Emily grabs for her phone as it vibrates, alerting her that she has a text message: _Where are we staying?_ She taps her thumb on the small screen a few times before replying: _My place?_ She makes it a question, not wanting to be too demanding, but she really wants the feel of her own bed. A quick _'k'_ is his only answer.

She looks up when Garcia asks playfully, "Who you talking to? A secret boyfriend?" Deciding to have a little fun, Emily grins and says "yep," popping the 'p'. When Garcia's eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets, Emily quickly shakes her head and holds up her phone. "It's Reid, Garcia."

Garcia's face falls in disappointment, but JJ bites hard on her lip to keep from laughing at the analyst's ignorance of the truth in Emily's statement.

Too tired for anything stronger than caffeine, the girls decide to go to a small diner close to the airstrip. Emily slides into a booth next to JJ, and waits for the waitress to bring them a slice of pie. Watching as Emily plays with a coin, Garcia begins her line of questioning. "Okay, girls. Riddle me this: what happened to us getting together and having fun?"

Emily keeps her eyes on the quarter in her hand as JJ answers. "We still get together. In fact, we're together almost all of the time."

"JJ, you know what I mean." She looks pointedly at Emily. "We're at a diner eating pie. That's not fun."

Emily finally looks up, "You don't like pie?" she asks with a smile. As the waitress brings over a tray with three cups of coffee and three large slices of chocolate pie, Garcia decides to temporarily abandon her argument. Instead, she focuses on Emily's attempted magic trick. "Em, what are doing?"

"Trying to make it disappear and reappear."

"Why don't you get Reid to show you?" Garcia asks, causing JJ to look at Emily out of the corner of her eyes.

"He already did. I'm just not fast enough to do the whole 'slight-of-hand' thing. Either you see the damn thing move, or I drop it."

Taking a large bite of cool-whip and chocolate, JJ jokingly adds, "I guess Emily just needs some magic fingers." Once again, she tries not to laugh as Emily kicks her from under the table.

"Am I missing something?" Garcia asks as she carefully eyes the two women sitting opposite her. "Oh my god! You're crushing on Reid!"

"I am not _crushing_ onReid!" Emily whispers harshly, trying not to attract the attention of the diner's other patrons.

Garcia all but bounces in her seat in excitement. "Yes, you are!" As Emily begins shaking her head while turning towards JJ, Garcia asks, "Then why are you spending so much time with him?"

Emily looks to JJ for help, but JJ only raises her eyebrows questioningly. Emily offers JJ a quick, "I hate you," which only causes Garcia's smile to spread. "Oh, this is good. So good."

As soon as Emily notices the look of planning on Garcia's face, she feels a slight twinge of panic. "Penelope, look at me. Whatever it is you're thinking, stop it."

Garcia's smile instantly turns into a pout. "Emily, I'm good at this match-maker thing. You _know_ it'll be great. Dr. Spencer Reid and Special Agent Emily Prentiss…I like how it sounds." She waves her hands in the air, as though she's a floor room model presenting a showcase.

Sensing Emily's growing frustration, JJ leans across the table and places a hand on one of Garcia's wrists, getting her attention. "Penelope, you aren't setting Reid and Emily up."

"But…"

"No." Both Emily and JJ say at the same time. Garcia slumps her shoulders in defeat, before grabbing a spoon. "Fine, I'll stop under two conditions. Non-negotiable."

Sitting back in her seat, Emily folds her hands in her lap. "What conditions?"

Grin back in place, Garcia holds up one finger. "You admit that you're crushing on Reid."

Emily exhales sharply. "Fine."

"Fine what?" Garcia asks in a singsong voice.

"Fine, I like Reid." JJ laughs at Emily's admission, before asking, "What's the second condition?"

Lifting a second finger, Garcia grins in triumph. "Promise me that next girl's night out will involve alcohol."

* * *

><p>Emily pushes the button, locking the car as she walks towards her building. She spots Reid's car parked a few spaces down, and she can't help but feel a swirl of emotions. She could have slapped JJ, but to her credit, she didn't tell Garcia that the reason the technical analyst couldn't set her up with Reid is because they already beat her to it.<p>

"Reid, are you awake?" She drops her keys into the little bowl on the table by the door as she sets the alarm. The TV's on but muted. She walks further into the room, and stops when she sees Reid sleeping on the couch. She frowns when she notices his leg propped up on a stack of pillows with a heating pad wrapped around his knee. She remembers him saying something about walking up and down twelve stories.

She reaches for her phone when she notices Sergio curled up next to Reid's hip. Smiling, she quickly takes a picture, wanting proof that the two can get along. She kneels down beside the couch and gently shakes Reid's shoulder. "Reid. Spencer Reid." She jumps back when he suddenly sits up. "What's wrong?" His eyes are wide and bloodshot, and she can tell he isn't fully awake. "Reid, let's go to bed."

He nods his head, but he turns on his side facing away from her. "Reid?"

"Mm –hmm." is the best reply she manages to get. Realizing she isn't going to move him, she carefully lays a blanket over him and turns off the TV, smiling when Sergio stretches and lies back down next to Reid.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, if the scene with Reid not knowing what counts as 'the usual' stuff when someone gives you a drawer seems a little unrealistic, I apologize. This chapter was hard to write and that was the only thing that cured my writer's block. By the by, Reid admitted on the show that he didn't have a lot of experience or knowledge of women's closet or how many pairs of shoes they have, so I don't think it's too far fetched for this story.**

**For people keeping count: JJ knows about Reid and Emily. Garcia thinks that Emily just has a crush on Reid, and Rossi seems to know. He knew about Emily not really being dead, so I figured he might know about Reid and Emily. We still don't know what Morgan and Hotch know/think.**

**Two things I want to mention: 1) Shemar Moore looks gorgeous in a towel and water. 2) All of the reviews so far are more than amazing.**

**I just want to say that the comments on my writing style are greatly appreciated, and kind of make me blush. Thank you everyone that has reviewed/favorited/alerted this story so far.**

**But I'm not gonna lie, more would be amazing. (Translation: Please review.)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: First, I would like to say that knee surgery, funerals, writer's block, and job searching are to be blamed for this chapter's incredibly long wait. I apologize. **

**Warnings: This chapter is a little different from the others. It has more interaction with the team. I want to warn you that this chapter contains some mature content; basically the type of stuff that would be discussed on the show (i.e. dead bodies and gore/grossness associated with such, violent crime, etc.). Essentially, if you've seen a Criminal Minds episode, you're pretty much prepared for what you're about to read.**

* * *

><p>Despite the fact that his shoes are covered in a combination of mud, soy sauce, and an unknown sticky, tar-like substance, he's still in a good mood, yet he can't help but feel a bit apprehensive about his seemingly pleasant demeanor. With the exception of tripping over, and ultimately stepping into, a box of trash an hour ago, the last several days have been going well.<p>

His knee finally stopped hurting, Rossi hadn't questioned him further about Emily, Garcia hadn't attempted to get he and Emily together despite Emily's warnings that she may, and every case or consult seemed to end easily and in their favor. He knows eventually, something will happen to disrupt both his and the team's good fortune.

He doesn't think ruining his shoes in the trash box's mystery cocktail on the way to his car at five in the morning will be enough to ease the unwanted feeling that something bad is due to happen. While he doesn't believe in an unseen force, constantly at work to maintain balance within the universe, he does believe that no one can go a long period of time with only good fortune. The fact that he had all green lights on the way to and from the airport doesn't help his theory.

Thinking of the term 'self-fulfilling prophecy', he immediately decides to try and not focus on the uncertain, yet impending doom that he fears may be making its way towards him and his team. If he's constantly looking for something bad to happen, he'll find it only because he's looking for it.

He pulls out his sunglasses as the sun's rays begin to make their selves known over the horizon. It's Sunday morning, _early_ Sunday morning, and hardly any people are out and about. If he hadn't promised Lynette he'd drive her to the airport, he'd still be asleep himself.

Pulling into the same parking spot he had abandoned over an hour ago, he thinks about what he's going to do today. He doesn't have any plans, and as far as he knows, neither does Emily. She had still been asleep when he left for the airport at a quarter till five, and he expects she'll still be sleeping now. Grabbing the empty coffee thermos out of the cup holder, he makes his way towards his building, careful to avoid the box of trash he had stepped in earlier, which now has several birds scavenging in it.

Once inside the building, he removes his shoes and carries them in his hand so he doesn't get whatever's on them onto the carpet. Knowing he's too wired to go back to sleep, he searches for his keys to unlock his door. As he pushes the door open, he's surprised to hear that the TV is on in his bedroom. He looks in the living room and sees his empty TV stand, as well as a long coax cable winding its way from the wall-jack towards his bedroom door.

Interest clouded with confusion causes him to kick the front door shut with his foot, before he begins to follow the black cable to his room. Confusion begins to dominate his interest as he takes in Emily sitting on his bed with, what looks to be a homemade dessert resting on her knees as her back leans against the headboard.

Noticing that he's entered the room, she grabs the remote and quickly mutes the TV. "I'm glad you're home. I need you to eat half of this pie." She reaches for the extra fork on the nightstand, before turning to hand it to him.

He looks between the offered fork in her extended hand and the TV now resting on his dresser before his eyes manage to meet hers questioningly. "Why do I have to eat half of a pie?"

"So I won't eat all of it." The statement is simple and direct. He can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. It's not even seven o'clock yet, and he's standing in his rearranged bedroom, ruined shoes in hand, and a girlfriend asking him to eat some type of pie for breakfast just so she won't eat it in its entirety.

Walking towards the bathroom door, he tosses his shoes into the bathtub before turning to crawl into bed beside Emily. Taking the offered fork, he digs into his half of the pie and asks, "Why did you rearrange the apartment?"

She gives him a condescending smile before answering. "I moved your TV, that's not rearranging." She digs into the pie, mindful to keep a balanced ratio between crust, chocolate filling, and cream cheese-Cool-Whip topping.

Reid tries to match her facial expression. "What about the dresser?" He can't help noticing that she keeps eating from his half of the pie.

"I scooted it over a couple of inches. The cable wouldn't reach otherwise," she defended.

"You still haven't answered my original question: Why?"

"Today is a _stay-in-bed_ kinda day, and you didn't have a TV in here…" she takes another bite of pie before continuing. "…And they're playing all three _Indiana Jones_ films, and afterwards, _Syfy_ is having a classic- horror movie marathon."

She smiles when he slowly nods his head in understanding. "Emily, where'd you get the pie?" he asks, his tongue heavy with chocolate.

"Lynette." The elderly woman had brought the pie the night before when she came over to make sure 'Spencer' remembered what time her flight left.

"Why are we eating it for breakfast?" He's not complaining, the pie is delicious, it's just he remembers several instances as a child when he was informed it was inappropriate to have sweets for breakfast.

"It's chocolate pie, it's delicious, and I waited all night—there's no way I was waiting until this evening." She lists off her reasons as he rearranges the pillows to support his back. "And why'd you put your shoes in the tub?"

"I stepped in something gross," is his only answer as he takes another bite of pie, savoring the richness of the cocoa.

She decides that his ambiguity relating to the 'gross' thing in which he stepped suggests that's a topic that can be saved for after they've finished eating. Instead, she picks up the remote and turns up the volume as the commercial ends, showing Harrison Ford teaching a class of smitten archaeology students.

She sets the remote back down beside her, and prepares to spend the rest of the day in bed.

Emily bends and touches her toes as she stretches, her muscles stiff from sitting in bed for so long. She readjusts her shirt as she walks into the kitchen. Reid sets the oven to preheat before he turns to join her at the kitchen's small island counter. "Whatcha cooking?" she asks when a comfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

"I don't know. It's something Lynette stuck in the freezer before she left." She smirks at his honesty, and the subtle amusement in his voice. She thought it endearing that the concerned neighbor made sure to cook several dinners for them before she had to leave for her grandson's wedding.

While always grateful, Reid can't help but feel slightly frustrated that his neighbor thinks him incapable of fending for himself. Since developing his relationship with Emily, Lynette's worries appear to have intensified; resulting in her preparing home cooked meals to keep at both his and Emily's apartment at least once a week. Emily seems to enjoy Lynette's attention and thoughtfulness—Reid can't help feeling suspicious that Lynette's affinity for making chocolate desserts is to blame.

"So, Garcia hasn't said anything to you?" she asks as she watches him trace the outlines on the countertop. He slowly shakes his head form side to side, debating whether or not he should tell her about Rossi's suspicions. When Emily had first informed him about Garcia's 'grand realization' that Emily possessed feelings for him, he had immediately thought about the inquiring conversation that had taken place between himself and Rossi. However, for reasons he can't explain, he chose to keep that information to himself, rather than tell her.

His leg begins to shake with impatience as he waits for the oven to heat. He isn't comfortable discussing the fact that he and Emily are keeping a secret from the team. Although, not all of the team appears to be ignorant to their situation, Reid still can't help but feel guilty when they are forced to go out of their way to keep their relationship hidden. Now that it has gotten to the point that they have to actually lie, he only feels worse.

Yet, he can't bring himself to say anything to change the situation. Mostly because he's afraid that if he were to say anything, the situation would _actually_ change. Despite JJ's constant reassurances that the team will be supportive, he isn't entirely certain how they will react—Garcia aside. She'll be overjoyed. He doesn't want to do anything to threaten his relationship with Emily.

He looks up to see Emily staring at him, a concerned look on her face. "What?" He sits up, trying to ease the worry out of his posture.

"You're thinking about something…" She stretches her arm across the table, letting her fingertips trace along the muscle of his forearm, "…and it's got you worried."

He starts to chew on the inside of his lip, and she knows she's right. He was focusing entirely way too much attention on the pattern on the countertop. "You want to talk about it?"

He keeps his chin angled down, but looks up with his eyes. Expressive eyes. She slides her fingers towards his wrist before taking his hand in hers, inviting him to talk.

"Do you think they know?"

She doesn't even take a moment to think about her answer. She knows what he's talking about, because she's wondered the same thing as well. "No, I don't think they know."

"Garcia's suspicious. If she can figure something out, you know the others can."

"Penelope's only suspicious because JJ couldn't keep quiet, and she hasn't said anything in front of the others, so we're good." She watches him, trying to read what he's thinking. Seeing that he still appears worried, she decides to add, "I know for certain that Morgan doesn't know."

He looks up and furrows his brow, eyes asking her how she knows without him having to. "Reid, think about it. If Morgan knew, do you think he'd let us get away without him giving us hell about it? You remember how much trouble we gave him when Jordan filled in for JJ, or what about that bartender that sent you her card?"

"Austin, and it was my card."

"Whatever. My point is, as soon as he knew, he teased. No teasing means he doesn't know." She smiles as she gestures her hands in the air, clearly happy with her reasoning.

Reid leans in, resting his weight on his elbow while he shakes a finger at her. "He knew about JJ and Will. We all knew for almost a year, and none of us teased _her_ about it."

"That was then, and JJ's never really been in on the whole teasing thing. All that time dealing with shameless reporters, she learned how to shut you down quick. You'd be an idiot to try and tease her. It's like going up against a serious Penelope Garcia." Both Emily and Reid laugh at the image.

Reid stands to put the frozen dish into the now ready oven. "I don't know if Morgan would even consider it a possibility."

She follows him as he makes his way back into the bedroom. "That'll just make it more fun when he does find out. Eventually."

* * *

><p>"Take a left."<p>

"Where?"

"You just passed it."

"Damn it, Reid. How the hell was I supposed to see that?" Reid braces himself on the dashboard as Morgan slams on the brakes. "I told you to turn left," he defends as he straightens out the wrinkled map, "If you weren't driving so fast, you'd have seen it in time."

Morgan turns his head and glares at Reid as he angrily shifts the SUV into reverse. Sensing Morgan's frustration, Reid decides to keep the rest of his comments to himself. "How much farther?" Morgan asks after several minutes pass in silence.

"Eight more miles, then you'll take another left," Reid answers quickly without looking at the map. Morgan just shakes his head and smirks as he glances at the mileage. They had left the station at nine o'clock in the morning. It's now almost six, and both men are tired of driving, tired of reading directions, and tired of finding dead ends. Garcia had found seven more possible victims. Three had agreed to come forward and give a statement. The other four refused to answer their phones, resulting in Morgan and Reid driving all over the county only to have one door slammed in their faces, one man who refused to admit anything ever happened, and another tell them to "fuck off."

Now on their way to the fourth and final address, both men are eager for the task to be done. As the form of the hidden cabin comes into view, Morgan slows the SUV while Reid prepares to ask the cabin's owner to come forward as a witness.

Morgan shuts the door and waits for Reid to come around the car before heading towards the cabin. Once at the door, both men immediately know something's wrong. "Do you smell that?" Reid asks as Morgan takes out his gun and begins to bang on the door, "Ronald Donovan, FBI!"

Reid twists the doorknob and easily pushes the door open, allowing the dense odor to escape into the late evening air. Bracing themselves for what's awaiting them, they quickly enter the house, Morgan going left as Reid goes right.

Reid hears Morgan's echoes of "clear" coming from the various rooms. He enters the bedroom and sees a closed door next to the closet. He walks to the door, gun raised, and pulls the door open.

Reid gags as the source of the smell is revealed. He coughs, trying to get himself in check before calling out to Morgan in a quiet voice, "I think I found Donovan." He's examining what's left of the corpse in the tub, when Morgan walks in.

Seeing where Reid's looking, Morgan squints his eyes as he pulls out his phone. "That's Donovan?" he asks as he searches his phone for Hotch's number.

"I think so," Reid answers as he makes his way around the gore filled bathroom. Bringing the phone to his ear, Morgan looks towards Reid, and glances once more at the body in the tub before walking outside. "How can you tell? Yeah, Hotch. We got a problem…"

As Morgan's voice slowly retreats to the sanctuary of outside, Reid takes in the chaos that was once Donovan's bathroom. He can tell from the large amount of blood and human tissue on the walls and tile floor that the victim was most likely killed on the floor, before his body was placed in the tub. Noticing the tub's plug lying alongside the baseboard, Reid assumes that the drain was clogged by either a foreign object or part of Donovan's decomposing flesh, resulting in a tub full of disassembled and decomposing body parts.

Feeling as though the air is beginning to grow thick in the small room, he quickly exits, joining Morgan on the porch. After getting confirmation that a crime scene unit is on the way, they take one last breath of clean air before descending back into the cabin to look around.

Reid begins examining the many papers on the desk while Morgan starts looking through the boxes stacked on the closet shelf.

Ever since they had been called in on the case, Reid's feeling of dread had intensified; so much so, that his anticipation of something bad happening had managed to overshadow his good mood. Having spent the day in a car with Morgan refusing to listen to his directions only to discover that one of their victims had been brutally murdered has only worked to aggravate his already sour demeanor.

Sensing Reid's bad mood, Morgan had held back asking his friend what was wrong. Knowing now that they aren't going anywhere for at least a few hours, he starts to think of how to broach the subject.

"Hey, Reid. Is everything going okay?" Reid just looks over his shoulder, before resuming his scanning of documents. "Yeah, I haven't found anything yet."

"No man, I mean with you. Is everything going okay with you?" Instead of answering, Reid simply turns towards the man, head tilted in confusion. Knowing Reid well enough to know that the words "I'm fine" are about to be said, Morgan quickly interjects. "From the moment we got this case, you've been in a bad mood. I'm just wanting to make sure everything's good."

Reid just turns back to the desk, picking up another stack of papers. "Everything's fine."

"Reid. Talk to me, man."

Reid keeps his eyes on the papers in his hands. "Do you ever get bad feelings?" His voice is almost a whisper, as though he's afraid to say it out loud. Looking at Reid's body language, Morgan is reminded of a conversation years ago concerning nightmares. "What, you mean like a vibe?"

"Yeah, exactly." Reid's eyes look towards Morgan's, pleading for him to understand.

"Sure, sometimes. Is that what's got you so riled up? You're getting a bad vibe?"

"See, that's the thing, Morgan. I don't believe in that sort of thing. There is no evidence to suggest that one is capable of discerning future events through feelings or 'vibes'." Reid tosses the papers back on the desk, shaking his head in frustration. "And what's worse, is that I'm only feeling bad because I'm expecting something bad to happen. I can't relax, simply because nothing terribly bad has happened lately. How messed up is that?"

Morgan gives his friend a sympathetic look. "Listen man, sometimes these things happen. You're smart enough to know better than to get all wrapped up in your own thoughts. The 'bad vibes' are probably just a reaction to stress; you've never really been good at handling that type of thing anyway." Seeing the tension start to leave Reid's shoulders, Morgan pats him on the back before continuing. "And kid, like I said, you're smart enough to not let it get to you. You'll figure out how to get passed it."

Reid tries to find comfort in Morgan's advice. He wants to be able to relax, to not worry about anything disrupting the seemingly good fortune that seems to have fallen upon the team. It seems the only time he can truly relax is when he is with Emily. Even with the rest of the team in the room, his concerns appear to subside as long as she's in the room with him.

He looks out the window when he hears one of the local police cruisers pull into the driveway. Following Morgan outside, he thinks about how Emily had mentioned that the team would _eventually_ find out about their relationship. He knows the bad vibes are a result of the stress caused by the worry of the team finding out. He hadn't begun to feel anxious until Emily told him about Garcia wanting to play matchmaker. The fact that he hadn't told Emily about Rossi's suspicions only makes the feeling of dread worse. He hates lying to them. Every time someone on the team attempts to keep a secret, something bad inevitably happens. Standing next to Morgan as he informs the deputy what they found in the house, Reid feels a pang of guilt knowing that if something bad happens this time, it will because he lied.

* * *

><p>When Reid and Morgan arrive back at the station, a full twelve hours after they had left, the rest of the team and the case's lead detective are sitting around the conference table. As the two walk into room, Emily eyes them warily. "You two look rough."<p>

Reid doesn't say anything. He just sits in the chair beside her, fighting the urge to yawn. Morgan gives a shaky laugh, before flipping the lid on the pizza box sitting in the middle of the table. "Well, if you had the day we did, you would, too." Seeing the mixture of red sauce, cheese, and grease, Morgan quickly closes the lid, desperately trying not to associate the seen in Donovan's bathroom with the pizza in the box. "They're printing the pictures now," he says to no one in particular, hoping to move his mind off the pizza.

As they wait for the crime scene photos to be printed, Hotch looks around at his exhausted team. They have been on the case for almost two days, constantly working to develop a profile before there's another victim. While they knew interviewing victims would be difficult, as it normally is in sexual assault cases, their job is made significantly more difficult by the fact that the victims were so dispersed throughout the county. He had sent Morgan and Reid to interview victims that had not initially filed a police report, hoping to find a lead. While he had hoped they would be successful in finding something to move the case along, he had not expected it to be in the form of a body.

Looking at Morgan and Reid now, Hotch notices that both men look as though they haven't slept in two days. The long driving distances coupled with the discovery that their serial rapist had escalated to murder had affected both agents. Hotch sees Emily mouth the question, "are you okay?" to Reid, to which he replies, "just tired."

Emily silently wishes the photos would hurry. As tired as she is, she can only imagine how Reid feels. When they had left the hotel that morning, he had admitted to not being able to sleep. She wasn't too worried; they all have trouble sleeping when on cases. It's when they have trouble sleeping while not on a case that she's concerned.

However, she can tell there's more going on in his head than just lack of sleep and a difficult case. Whatever is bothering him, is adding to his physical exhaustion. She looks up to notice Hotch looking in her direction. As a deputy arrives with a stack of photos, she makes a mental reminder to question Reid when they get back to the hotel.

Morgan takes the flash drive offered to him by the deputy and reaches for the laptop to email the photos to Garcia. The sound of papers being shuffled feels the small room as the photos are passed around.

Few minutes pass by as they discuss what they see in the photos. Emily can't help but notice that Reid only gives short answers when prompted. Otherwise, he remains silent, choosing to stare at the photos in front of him.

Hotch leans forward and begins to dial the phone next to the pizza box. Barely one ring goes by before the other line is answered.

"Do I even want to know what I'm looking at here?" Garcia's voice asks over the conference room's phone, referring to the photos in the email.

"Most likely, Ronald Donovan." Rossi replies, unknowingly mirroring the look of disgust on the technical analyst's face.

"Well, that's just…yeah." She glances once more at the image on her screen before opening up a search box, effectively blocking the majority of the screen. "Okay, Boss Man, what am I looking for?"

After telling Garcia to send them everything she can find on all known victims, Hotch decides to call it a night, knowing that each of his team members need a few hours sleep. The profilers gather their files and begin to leave the building, making their way towards the three dark SUVS parked outside.

Emily immediately hurries forward, whispering to Reid as she walks by, "You're riding with me."

She opens the door to the back of the SUV and sits the large box of case files on the seat. She's surprised when she turns and sees Reid climbing into the driver's seat. "What are you doing?"

"Driving. I had to ride shotgun with Morgan all day. I need to drive for a while." As he begins to buckle his seatbelt, she gives up arguing, and simply hands him the keys before walking to the passenger's side. As she opens the door, she catches JJ's worried eyes, and gives her a short smile.

The hotel isn't far from the station, but the many red lights and late night traffic make the drive last longer than it should. Emily's quiet the first few blocks, but as they approach a stoplight, she decides to break the silence. "Reid. What's been bothering you lately? And don't try telling me it's nothing." She notices he tightens the grip on the steering wheel, causing the muscles of his forearm to flex. She doesn't say anything when he doesn't answer, choosing instead to watch his body language, which only proves her theory that something's bothering him.

The light changes, and she refocuses her attention on the road. She's starting to believe that he's going to pretend not to have heard her when he finally says something. "I'm worried that something bad is going to happen."

"With the case?"

"No, with…I don't know, maybe?" He licks his lips as he thinks about how to word what he wants to say. "I'm worried something bad is going to happen because we haven't told the team about us." He says it slow, almost as if the words were gradually being drawn out.

She nods her head once, understanding finally setting in. Judging by the events of the last few years, she can't blame him for making the link between keeping secrets and trouble: Morgan being accused of murder, his struggle with Dilaudid, her and Doyle to name a few.

"Reid, this isn't a bad thing. Us being together isn't hurting anyone, and them not knowing right now isn't hurting anyone."

"I know that." He doesn't look at her, but keeps his eyes on the road instead.

"Do you want to tell them? After the case?" She silently begs him to say no. She's not worried about what they would say, or how they would react, but the thought of actually having to tell them makes her nervous.

"No, " he still hasn't looked at her, "I don't want things to change."

"Reid, them knowing won't change things between us. You know that, right?" He glances at her once, before parking the SUV alongside the others. "Yeah, I know that."

He offers her a small smile before climbing out of the SUV, effectively ending the conversation.

As the night goes on, she isn't able to sleep due to the worry she now feels because of Reid's concerns. She's thought about what the team will say when they find out. Despite JJ's constant reassurances that they will be supportive, she knows the team dynamic will immediately shift, and she isn't sure she wants that responsibility.

Deciding that there isn't anything she can do about it until the case is over, she tries to push it out of her mind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know that's a weird place to end the chapter, however, I have a plan for what's going to happen next, and I didn't want this chapter to be too long or for it to end in a serious cliffhanger. **

**Also, I have received a few reviews and several PMs concerning the topic of baby geniuses. I'm not entirely sure whether or not I want to include that in the story. If you could review or PM me, letting me know your thoughts on the subject (either yay or nay) that would help me determine whether the majority of the readers want it to happen or not. (Lolyncut, I already know your vote :) ).**

**I would also like to know what everyone thinks of the story so far. It's selfish, but then again the main point of posting stories is to see what people think of them. Happy Reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: What? Two updates within two days. Why, that's madness, I say. Pure madness.**

**Same warnings as last chapter. Only some whumpage to follow this time around. Lolyncut you sly dog, you. Going and guessing like you did.**

* * *

><p>Emily tries to focus her attention on the burn of the mouthwash. She knows that she's about to begin a long day, and with only a few hours sleep, she knows it's only going to feel longer. She had talked with JJ for over an hour the night before when her friend had called asking if everything was okay with Reid. After hanging up the phone, she had to use all of her self-control not to go knock on his door and force him to see reason.<p>

She knows when Reid gets something in his head, he holds onto it; letting it gnaw at him until he's proven wrong. That wouldn't be too much of a problem if he weren't so stubborn that he won't let her try and change his mind. She knows he listens to her, but it takes time for what she says to truly sink in—he has to think about it, analyze it from every perspective. And if she knows her team, she isn't the only one to have said anything to him.

She's putting away her toothbrush when she hears her phone vibrate on the nightstand. She reads the text and grabs her coat to meet the team in the lobby. When she sees Reid smile at her as soon as she steps out of the elevator, she feels a little relieved. His eyes are brighter, and he doesn't look as tired. Obviously, he managed to get some sleep, or he thought about what she had said. Either way, she feels the sense of apprehension that had made its way into her chest the night before ease up.

"Hey, Garcia text you?" She holds up her phone so JJ and Reid can read the heading on the open message: _Consider this your Bat Signal, fellow Crime Fighters_.

"Oh yeah. You got to love her." JJ laughs as she reads through the message letting her know that their friend had information for them. They turn and look as the second elevator opens, revealing the last three members of their team, Rossi with an amused look on his face as he puts his phone away.

The drive to the station is quiet, allowing everyone to fully wake up and prepare for the day. The amount of information that Garcia has compiled on all fourteen victims is both impressive and daunting. Reid immediately begins printing out the numerous pages, and sits down to sort through what information is relevant and which is not.

* * *

><p>Five hours later, Morgan lets his body fall into one of the small chairs along the conference room's back wall. He rubs a hand over his tired face, before resting his head against the wall. "Any luck with Adams?" he asks looking at the other members of his team.<p>

Hotch shakes his head, and begins to look through the recently finished coroner's report. Each victim had been called and informed of the potential danger concerning a repeat attack. At the mention of murder, two of the victims that Morgan and Reid had tried to interview the previous day had decided to cooperate. However, Adams, the one that had denied he was ever attacked was still refusing to cooperate, despite Hotch's reassurance that he would be kept safe.

JJ sets down her copy of the updated file and rubs at her tired eyes. "So, I know our guy is a sexual sadist. That's obvious, but is he an anger excitation rapist who recently progressed to killing and got lucky, or…I don't know. I mean, look at this report. The coroner says the body was completely disassembled. This _cannot_ be his first time killing right?"

"No, it's not. But it has to be his first time using this MO. There hasn't been another murder similar to this reported." Reid continues to look at the photos of the bathroom. "Did they say what blocked the tub?"

Several sets of eyes look up at him. "What?" Morgan looks at Reid, obviously wanting him to explain more, and not just repeat the question.

"The drain was clogged, I was just wondering what clogged it." Reid answers honestly, not understanding the confused looks he's receiving.

Emily shrugs her shoulders, as she scans the file. "It doesn't say, but my guess is Donovan clogged the tub."

"It was a vertebrae." All six profilers turn towards the door to see Detective Wilkes standing in the frame, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. "Apparently our guy disarticulated the spine, and one of the vertebrae blocked the drain."

"He disarticulated the spine?" Reid reaches for the coroner's report in front of JJ, eyes quickly scanning over the many pages.

"Uh, yeah." Detective Wilkes answers as he watches Reid finish the report before he manages to sit down. "Is that important?"

Reid reaches for his phone and immediately dials Garcia. "I don't know, maybe." He ignores the questioning stares as Garcia answers the phone. "Reid, have you called to confess your undying love for me?"

"Garcia I need you to check if there were any bodies discovered in Sabine Parrish, Louisiana within the last ten years that had disarticulated spines."

"Would it kill you to play along? Hold on…" Reid can hear her typing over the phone. He holds up a finger to stop JJ from asking what he's thinking when Garcia comes back on the line. "Oh, Reid, your wonders never cease. Two bodies were found in Bayou La Nana, completely disassembled. Spines included. Authorities say cause of death couldn't be determined because gators got to them first."

"And you said that Howard Adams attended McNeese University from 2005 to 2008?"

"Until he was forced out after loosing his scholarship for uncomely behavior, which I think is code for sexually harassing his fraternity brothers. That's when he relocated to New Mexico."

"Thanks, Penelope." As he hangs up his phone, he stands and quickly walks to the board, pulling off Adams' photo. "Howard Adams isn't a victim, he's our unsub."

"How do you know?" Hotch is already searching for the file on Adams.

Emily fights the urge to smile as she hears Reid switch into his 'eureka' voice. "Six years ago, two bodies were discovered beneath a bridge in a small town in Louisiana—each body had been picked clean by animals, but authorities say that they had been disassembled by another person. Their spines had been disarticulated."

Hotch begins to stand, file open in his hand. "And Adams went to school in Louisiana before he moved here."

"That would explain why he refuses to talk to us. He's scared we'll figure him out," Rossi states, clearly convinced.

Detective Wilkes just looks around as the members of the BAU all begin to stand. His attention falls to Reid. "You just happen to know about a pair of bodies discovered in Louisiana six years ago?"

At this, every stops moving, each waiting to hear Reid's answer. Reid just shrugs his shoulders. "My neighbor's son-in-law is a cop in Louisiana. He told her about it, and she told me."

* * *

><p>It doesn't take long for them to have several police cruisers and SUVs ready to go to Adams' residence. Emily sees Reid climb into the passenger seat of the SUV in front of her, his vest already on. She manages to catch his eye, and gestures for him to follow her.<p>

He climbs out of the vehicle, leaving the door open as he walks towards the SUV parked immediately behind his. "What's wrong?" he asks, ignoring the curious look he receives as Detective Wilkes walks by.

Emily just smiles as she adjusts the Kevlar vest. "Nothing. I just want to make sure you're okay. You seem better than yesterday." He returns her smile, "I just needed some sleep. I'm better."

"Good. Be careful." She almost leans in to kiss him before she remembers where they are.

"You, too." He says, lightly brushing her hand with his as he turns to get back in the car. He's disappointed to see Detective Wilkes sitting in the passenger seat. He climbs into the back seat, sitting behind Detective Wilkes as Morgan sits in the driver's seat.

Emily leans down to tuck in her shoelaces before she climbs in the front seat. She looks up once more hoping to see Reid, but he's already in the SUV. She quickly pulls the door shut as Hotch starts the engine.

As they fall in line behind a police car, she notices Rossi and JJ in the SUV behind them. Knowing that Morgan and Reid are probably right behind Rossi and JJ, she focuses her attention on the road as they quickly move through traffic. With the sirens and lights on, they easily make their way across town. As they approach Adams' home, they switch off the sirens, preparing to jump out of the vehicles and storm the house.

However, as soon as they turn onto the appropriate street, they catch sight of Adams' car speeding to get away. Hotch quickly switches the siren back on, and yells into the microphone on his sleeve for someone to guard the house.

Emily has just enough time to see a police cruiser pull into the driveway before Hotch turns the corner, pressing the gas as hard as he can in order to catch up with Adams. Instead of heading to the interstate, Adams makes his way towards the center of town. Emily can only assume adrenaline is giving him directions, because with each turn, he lowers his chances of escape.

Adams turns onto a one-way street with several large trucks parked along the side. Emily's busy yelling into the radio, when she sees something that catches her attention. She's not sure she saw it, but she immediately feels a chill at the thought.

She had turned to look out the window as they passed what she thought was an alley, but turned out to be a service road, when she thinks she sees a truck speeding towards the road they're on. She turns around in time to see the truck exit the service road and disappear behind Rossi and JJ's SUV. The sound that follows nearly causes her heart to stop.

She hears the screech of metal on metal as the truck slams into SUV. She hears the shattering of glass as the SUV is steered into the bed of one of the parked trucks, the large poles serving as the truck's cargo crushing through the windshield of the SUV.

Emily isn't aware of what she's saying, but she knows she screaming, desperately trying to get Hotch to stop. She isn't aware of Hotch taking the radio from her, or of him telling the cruisers to keep after Adams. All she knows is that he's still driving, constantly taking her away from crash. "Hotch what are you doing?"

"I have to let the cruisers get by. We can't lose Adams." She wants to yell at him, to tell him to forget about Adams, but she knows she can't. As soon as they clear the long line of parked trucks and meters, Hotch pulls the SUV onto the sidewalk, clearing the way for the police cruisers to continue chasing Adams.

Emily doesn't waste a second. As soon as the SUV stops, she opens the door and starts running towards the crash.

* * *

><p>Reid is staring at the pipe coming through the seat in front of him. He can't explain why, but he knows that something isn't right about it. He sees blood and pieces of flesh smeared along its length, but he still can't wrap his mind around how it got there. He closes his eyes, trying to fight the whirring in his ears. When he opens them again, a high-pitched ringing threatens to pierce his right eardrum. He looks at the pole again, and lets his eyes follow it. His confusion intensifies when he notices that it's now connected to his vest, the end nestled firmly between the white letters 'B' and 'I'. He knows it shouldn't be there, that it shouldn't be coming out of the seat.<p>

He tries to take a deep breath, but stops when he feels a heavy pressure on his chest. Realizing it's probably because of the pipe, he tries to lean back. He's a little disappointed when his back meets the seat, stopping him from moving any farther from the pole. Although the small amount he moved did ease the pressure, it causes a sharp pain.

He's starting to get angry at the whirring and ringing in his ears. He looks up and sees Morgan staring at him. He can tell he's trying to say something, but the ringing is too loud. Maybe if he gets out of the car, it'll stop.

He tries to move his right arm, but it doesn't seem to want to work. He sees Rossi standing outside the window. Why is there blood on the window? He uses his left hand and begins to undo the straps on the vest. He sees Morgan waving his hand at him, but ignores him. He'll be able to hear him when he's out of the car.

He reaches his arm across his chest, and tries to undo the strap on his right shoulder. As soon as his fingers touch the strap, an intense pain shoots through his arm. The whirring and ringing immediately disappear, and he's shocked to hear his own painful scream.

"Reid, damn it. I said don't move. Reid can you hear me?" Reid turns again to look at Morgan, and manages to nod. "Okay, man. You _have_ to stay still." Reid nods again, and notices JJ outside Morgan's window.

As the confusion begins to clear, Reid is once again aware of the steel pole protruding from the back of the passenger seat. When Rossi and a deputy manage to open Reid's door, Reid manages to mutter, "Wilkes?"

"He's dead. Try not to move." Reid immediately starts shaking his head, as he grows more aware of the situation. He looks at the pole again, and fights the urge be sick. "I have to get out of here." Reid again starts to undo the strap on the right side of his vest, ignoring the pain in his arm and Rossi's demands that he remain still.

"Rossi, I don't think it went through the vest," he manages to say through ragged breaths. He's constantly fighting the feeling of panic that's threatening to overtake him. "Just let me get out."

"Reid, just wait. The medics will be here in a minute. Reid, STOP…" Rossi holds his breath when Reid pushes himself out of the SUV, the vest hanging on the end of pole. He wants to yell, but is too relieved to see that the pole had stopped short. Rossi turns when he hears JJ yelling at Morgan as he comes around the SUV, acting as though he doesn't hear her telling him to keep still.

"Reid, are you okay?" he asks as soon as he stops in front of them. For the first time, Rossi is able to see Morgan's injuries. He has several cuts on his face and his nose is bleeding, most likely from the airbag. Rossi can also see a small gash along his eyebrow, but otherwise, no other obvious injuries.

He turns his attention back to Reid. He's not sure exactly where or how bad it is, but he knows there's a large gash on the side of the kid's head because of the large amount of blood matting his hair and flowing down his neck. His shoulder looks dislocated, and his breathing isn't regular. Rossi gently places a hand on his good shoulder, "Reid, you need to sit down."

Reid looks past Rossi and notices Emily running towards them, Hotch not far behind. "What about Wilkes?" Reid asks again. Rossi furrows his brow, and looks at the deputy beside him. "We need to worry about you right now."

Reid tries to shake his head, but stops when the ringing returns. "No, I mean…not Wilkes, he's dead. What about the other one."

"What other one?" JJ asks, trying to avoid looking in the SUV's passenger seat.

"The other driver's unconscious, but Reid, please sit down." Rossi says, knowing that another deputy was tending to the man who had hit them. He tries to steer Reid towards the other SUV in an attempt to get him to sit down, but Reid tries to shrug him off.

When Reid moves, it causes his shirt to press against his chest. Morgan feels his breath catch when he sees the shirt begin to soak up blood. "Reid man, you're hurt."

"So are you. I'm fine." Reid argues as Emily and Hotch approach them, each taking in the scene around them.

Morgan takes another step towards Reid, "Reid, you need…"

"Morgan, I said I'm fine!" Reid yells, immediately regretting it as his head begins to pound. He looks at Emily, and sees the worry on her face. "I'm fine," he whispers.

Hearing the sound of the approaching ambulance, Rossi tries again to reason with Reid. "Listen, you're hurt. You're bleeding, you're disoriented. You need to go to the hospital. Both of you." He turns and looks at Morgan, daring him to argue, but Morgan is only looking at Reid as his shirt continues to change from light blue to dark red.

Both Reid and Morgan refuse to lie on a stretcher, but before they climb into the back of the ambulance, Reid stumbles and immediately throws up. The pain in his head, coupled with the severe vertigo ultimately trumps his refusal for a stretcher.

As Morgan climbs in to sit beside Reid, Rossi turns to look at the remaining members of his team. As Hotch talks with one of the deputies, Rossi looks pointedly at Emily. "Emily, maybe you should go to the hospital and keep us up to date."

Emily manages to look away from the retreating ambulance, and tries not to look as shocked as she feels.

Rossi looks her in the eyes, making sure he has her attention. "Emily, he's going to be okay." She can only let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, as JJ rubs small circles on her back.

"How long have you known?" She asks, looking to see if Hotch could hear.

"Not long, but for a while." He smiles and hands her the car keys. "Make sure you call as soon as you know anything."

She simply nods as she takes the keys.

* * *

><p>Once at the hospital, it's all confusion. First, the nurses didn't want to let her back, and then they sent her to where the man that had caused the accident was being treated. It took a lot longer than she would have liked, but she finally found herself sitting in a curtained area watching a doctor give Morgan stitches.<p>

"Have you heard from Reid yet?" he asks, one eye peeping out from under a blue sheet.

"I've only just found you. They took him for x-rays, other than that, I don't know."

"The pipe didn't go far. The medics said he'll need some stitches, but it didn't look too bad. The pipe _just_ pushed through the Kevlar, cutting him. Or at least that's what they told me."

The doctor finishes the stitches and asks Morgan to sit up. He checks his eyes one more time and tells him to sit tight, that a nurse will be back with his discharge sheets. The doctor isn't gone two minutes when Morgan's phone begins to ring.

Emily sees a small smile as he looks at the caller ID before he answers it. "Hey momma…whoa, whoa, whoa, Penelope, calm down. I'm fine, Reid's getting x-rays done, but they say he'll be fine." Emily sees the nurse frown at Morgan as she walks in, clipboard in hand. Morgan quickly ends the call, and signs the papers before asking about Reid. Handing Morgan an ice pack, the nurse tells them where to wait.

They find two small chairs next to the nurses' station. Emily sits, looking over to notice that Morgan seems a little stiff as he eases into the small chair. He stares blankly at the papers in his hand. "Damn." He looks up at her, exhaustion decorating his features. "I forgot all about Adams."

She places a hand on his arm, wary of any injuries. "Me, too. I'm just glad you're okay." He smiles for a moment, but frowns almost immediately. "Wilkes."

She nods, feeling both sad and guilty. She thought Reid had been in that seat. She remembers him being there, and had assumed he still was. When she was running towards the crash, she remembers seeing that no one was looking in the front passenger seat. She saw the pipe going into the windshield, and heard indistinct voices declaring, "He's dead."

She couldn't run fast enough. When she saw Rossi step aside and Reid stand next to him, she almost collapsed with relief. It wasn't until she had made it to the wrecked SUV that she saw Wilkes body, the steel pipe passing through him.

A full hour passes before anyone comes to tell them about Reid. Emily takes her phone and car keys out of her pocket just so she will have something to hold on to in order to keep her hands from shaking. She's relieved to see Reid sitting up when they walk into the room. He's wearing a gown, showing several bandages wrapped around his torso. As she walks around the bed, she notices that he's also wearing a pair of scrub pants, mix-matched socks showing underneath.

He doesn't smile, but looks silently between Morgan and Emily. A doctor comes in holding a bag full of Reid's ruined clothes, a scrub shirt, and x-rays. "You, Agent Reid, are a lucky man." He shows them the x-rays, explains about the dislocated shoulder, the fractured and bruised ribs, and the concussion. He hands Emily the scrub top, and leaves to go get a sling for Reid's arm.

Reid looks at the shirt in Emily's hands and immediately goes to untie the back of the gown, forgetting about Morgan being in the room. As soon as his arm is at shoulder height, his damaged ribs begin to protest.

"Whoa, man. I got you." Morgan says, as he unties the strings holding the gown in place. Reid turns his head, careful to keep his torso still, "Are you okay?"

Morgan smiles a weak smile and nods. "Yeah, I'm okay. Three stitches, and I'm good to go."

Reid turns back to Emily, raising his hand as she slides the shirt over his injured arm, helping ease it over his head, careful not to hit the bandage hiding the stitches. Morgan stands back and watches, wondering when Reid had gotten over his shyness.

Emily looks up after she pulls the shirt down over his bandaged torso. "Are you okay?" she asks.

Reid looks at the x-ray on the screen, and nods. "You heard the doctor," his tone borderline harsh.

Emily looks at Morgan, trying to see if there's anything that she had missed. "Reid, you know what I mean."

He doesn't have time to answer her, because the doctor walks in and begins explaining how to put the sling on and off. As the doctor goes to leave, he hands Emily Reid's prescription and several printouts describing how to take care of stitches, change bandages, and how to keep an eye on a concussion. She sets the stack of papers on the bed, and reaches into the bag, pulling out Reid's shoes.

Reid reaches and picks up the small piece of paper, reading what the doctor had prescribed him. He quickly crumples the paper and tosses it towards the trashcan. He misses and the paper falls to the floor.

Morgan goes over and slowly picks up the paper, mindful of his sore body. "Reid…" He starts to ask if he's sure, but Reid just shakes his head from side to side, stopping the question from being asked. Emily catches Morgan's eye, and both decide not to say anything.

As soon as Reid's shoes are on, all three begin to make their way to the parking lot. Emily calls Rossi, letting him know that everyone's okay. Once they reach the SUV, Reid immediately gets into the back seat on the driver's side.

Emily starts the car and begins to make her way out of the crowded parking deck. "Adams got away. He jumped out of his car, and took off on foot. They've blocked off about ten blocks. They'll find him."

"They better." Morgan responds, anger starting to show through. Emily looks in the rearview mirror, hoping Reid will meet her eyes. He lets his head lean against the headrest, concentrating on the passing scenery.

It isn't until they reach the hotel parking lot that Reid decides to speak up. "What are we doing here?" he asks.

"Dropping you off." Emily answers.

"You just said Adams got away." Emily nods, watching him through the rearview mirror.

Reid looks at her again, before turning to Morgan. "You're not dropping me off. I can help. Get me a map of where he disappeared and I can narrow down where he would hide."

"Reid, man you have a concussion. You're not working." Morgan, sensing Reid's rising anger, tries to keep his voice calm.

"If I have a concussion, you can't leave me alone, and we can't afford for anyone else to be gone. I can sit down and work, I'll be within eyesight, but I need to help you find him."

Emily turns around to face him, "Reid, you have a concussion. You don't need to be working."

"I'll be looking at a map. And you've done the exact same thing."

"What do you mean?"

"You got hit by a truck, and were back at the station a few hours later."

"Yeah, but I wasn't hurt that bad."

"Neither am I."

"Reid, you need to…"  
>"Emily, I am not staying here." She stares at him, not knowing what else to say. She looks to Morgan, hoping he'll have a solution. She can tell by the look on his face that he doesn't.<p>

She shifts the SUV into gear and begins to drive to the police station, as an uncomfortable silence falls amongst them.

When Reid steps out of the SUV, he catches his reflection in the dark reflective surface of the vehicle. He immediately regrets not having a change of clothes with him, feeling exposed in the thin material of surgical blue scrubs.

As they walk into the building, several eyes turn to stare. The atmosphere is different from the last time they were here, a consequence of the death of Detective Wilkes. Morgan reaches the conference room first, and holds the door open for Emily and Reid to pass through.

Hotch looks at Morgan and Reid, a frown darkening his face. "What are you doing here?"

Reid grabs the map off the board, heedless of the tacks keeping it in place, and sits down at the table.

Morgan casts an angry stare at Reid before turning to Hotch, "He refused to stay at the hotel."

"Where did they last see him?" Reid asks, choosing to ignore the conversation already taking place. Hotch looks at Emily, who simply shakes her head letting Hotch know not to ask.

Realizing that arguing will only make the situation worse, Rossi walks over and points at an area on the map, "Somewhere in this area, they've got form here to here blocked off." He shows Reid the area currently being searched.

Reid awkwardly grabs one of the markers with his left hand and sets to outlining the area in red ink.

Reid keeps quiet, concentrating on the work in front of him and trying to ignore the sharp pains that seem to be attacking his entire body, the rest of the team preparing to go help with the search. He only looks up when Hotch tells JJ to stay and help him. He looks to Emily, and immediately looks away, not certain he's ready to face those emotions yet.

Twenty minutes pass by, JJ letting him work in silence when someone knocks on the door. He looks up and sees the same deputy that had helped Rossi get his door open, a black bar now covering the front of his badge. "Dr. Reid, I think this is yours." He holds up Reid's messenger bag, before sitting it on the table in front of him.

"Yeah," his voice catches when he notices a small amount of blood on the strap. He's not sure if it's his or Detective Wilkes. "Thank you."

The deputy nods, and returns to his work. Reid looks at the bag a few more moments before he realizes that JJ is staring at him. He clears his throat and continues to eliminate possible hiding places.

Reid sets the marker down, the ringing returning to his ears. He knows he needs to rest. The lines on the page keep moving, and more than once he forgot what he was doing. He knows it's the concussion, and he also knows he shouldn't be working.

He tries to reach for the bag, stopping when the stabbing in his ribs cause him to his in pain. When he manages to open his eyes again, JJ is there, bag in hand. "What do you need?"

He looks at the bag once more, before answering. "There should be some ibuprofen in the front pocket." To her credit, she doesn't ask why the doctor didn't give him something stronger, but then again she already knows.

She shakes two pills into his outstretched hand and moves to get him a cup of water. He gratefully takes the water, and washes the pills down with a tiny sip, the coldness of the water making his head hurt.

He looks at the map once more, before pushing it away from him. Reid doesn't want any questions; he doesn't want her to know how bad the concussion's affecting him. "My head hurts," is all he says in response to her questioning look.

"Do you want to lie down?"

"No," he answers. She looks like she's about to say something else when they notice everyone outside the conference room begin to quicken their pace. At the same time, JJ's phone begins to ring.

She answers, knowing Reid will want to hear it too, she puts the call on speaker. "Adams is dead."

"How?" JJ asks, although she feels as though she already knows why.

"Two uniforms found him. He was armed, and they opened fire. We're on our way back." JJ looks at Reid as she ends the call with Rossi. Both know why Adams is dead. The cops wanted someone to blame for Detective Wilkes death, and Adams was it.

* * *

><p>The ride back to the station is quiet, everyone thinking about everything that had happened with the last few hours. When they get back to the station, Emily can't hold back the emotions any longer. She quietly sneaks away, opening the door to the closet stairwell.<p>

She lets the wall support her as her knees slowly bend, and she slides down until she's rested against the cold concrete on the top stair. She leans her forehead against her knees as her hands grab her hair, giving her something to hold on to. She's a smart woman. She knows he's trying to deal with what happened. She's giving him his space. That's why she is here, in a random stairwell crying in anger at him for not letting her comfort him. For not comforting her. Anger is easier, but deep down she knows she's crying because she was scared. He had been in that seat. He could have still been in that seat. He could have died. All the times something bad had happened to a member of the team, she put on her mask and tried to hide the myriad of emotions that were pressing against her carefully placed walls. This time was different. She knows it's wrong, but this time, losing one of them would have meant so much more. It wouldn't have meant losing a team member, a part of her family. It would have meant losing _him_. And that means so much more.

She lets her hands fall from her hair, and rest on the top of her ankles. She inhales deeply, and focuses on the fact that he is still alive. Still incredibly stubborn, hardheaded, determined, and _alive_. She thinks back to the relief that flooded through her at seeing him stand next to Rossi. He was hurt, but he was there, looking at her. She remembers him arguing with Morgan, declaring he was fine in a sharp tone she wasn't used to. She remembers the softly whispered "I'm fine" intended only for her.

She smiles at the memory, but the smile is short lived, because she remembers his eyes when he said it. Those bright, hazel eyes that always managed to reveal more than was intended. He was hurting. She had seen it in his eyes. Relief. Guilt. Anger. Denial. Fear. Sadness. He was holding back. He couldn't let her in, because then the dam would break and he either didn't know how to deal with it, or didn't want to.

Running her fingers through her hair, she cautiously slips from the stairwell and into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror as cool water runs through her fingers, she decides to wait. Wait on his mind and his emotions to catch up with reality. Wait until he wants to talk about it. Wait until he _can_ talk about it.

She leaves the bathroom, and begins to help the rest of the team pack up. She chances a look towards Reid. His eyes are down, completely focused on carefully arranging the files into the box in front of him, the muscle along his jaw flexing. She can still see the hidden emotions fighting with their unwilling host. She starts removing photos from a crowded board, and begins to wait.

She knows it's only a matter of time before the reality that he could have died sinks in. She just doesn't know how he will handle it when that sinking feeling hits. She knows he doesn't want to talk about it. He had made that perfectly clear. She just has to wait until the dam breaks. She prays to God that she'll know what to do when it does; that she'll be able to help him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Review? Why, thank you. Don't mind if I do…(Hint, hint).**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: In this story, the treatment of Reid's concussion is based off of what we had to do when my dad and me had concussions. While my dad's concussion was much worse than mine, the doctors told my mom both times to wake us up every two to four hours. I understand some concussions are worse and require more attention, but let's just pretend that Reid's isn't. I just felt like saying that.**

*****Also, I don't know if it's intentional or not, but a great many more readers have read chapter ten and skipped chapter nine. It might be because I posted both chapters so close together, and you just didn't know. BUT if not, and you just decided that chapter nine wasn't worth reading, continue to rock your freedom to choose and exercise your right to rebel. I know someone who went from the fourth Harry Potter book straight to the sixth all because he didn't want to read about Umbridge in the fifth. Of course, I think he's crazy, but again his choice. Just needed to say that in case some of you did want to read it.**

* * *

><p>She's tempted to ask Rossi to turn on the radio. The silence is overwhelming, leaving her nothing to do but think. They had finished packing up and left for the hotel, leaving Hotch and Morgan to finish final discussions at the police station. The entire time, Reid hadn't spoken a word.<p>

She's watching him now, not caring if JJ and Rossi notice—after all, they already know. He's too still for her comfort. She's used to the man constantly moving, unable to sit still. But now he sits unmoving. His left hand resting on his lap, palm up while he stares at the back of Rossi's seat, seeing something that isn't there. His face is calm and it reminds her of someone who had begun daydreaming in class.

She looks towards Rossi and notices him watching Reid too, his eyes dancing between the road and the rearview mirror. Everyone had noticed when Reid refused to get in the car on the passenger side, despite the fact that he was offered shotgun. He didn't say anything, just ignored JJ as she held the door open for him, choosing to walk around the far side of the SUV, and painfully climb into the vehicle's back seat.

Emily looks at the papers in her hands that the doctor had given her. They were told that his concussion was minor, the cracked and bruised ribs would probably be the most painful, but she's still worried. Every few minutes, he squeezes his eyes shut and looks as though he's confused before he settles back into the far off stare.

Rossi's driving slow, cautious after watching one man die in a car accident and two friends injured. The car behind them, growing impatient at the slow but steady pace, quickly speeds up and passes them, honking his horn as he drives by.

It's enough to snap Reid out of his reverie. Emily quickly places a hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention as he jumps, posture stiffening, and head turning to watch the car speed off. JJ and Rossi keep their eyes forward as Emily squeezes her hand. "Are you okay?"

He looks at her briefly, before directing his stare towards his lap and wiping his palm on his pants leg. "I'm fine," he whispers glancing at the pair of passengers in the front seat before adverting his eyes once again.

Sensing his frustration and embarrassment, she brings her hand back and catches Rossi's eye in the mirror, his look telling her to give him time.

Reid leans his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose as a wave of vertigo hits him. The fact that he can't sit still without filling as though he's falling is testing his already tried patience. When he was at the hospital being x-rayed, his vision had blurred every time he tried to focus on something. While his vision has since then improved, he still finds it disturbing that everything around him appears to be going at a different speed than it normally would—either time seems to stand still, or it passes him by without him knowing.

Like just now, he remembers getting into the car and shutting the door, but he has no recollection of the car actually moving, at least not until the sound of a car horn roused him from his thoughts. He had been thinking of the accident, while simultaneously trying to think of anything but the accident when the car passed by his window. Until that moment, he had been unable to recollect the actual wreck. He remembers turning onto the road, and then remembers seeing the steel pipe protruding from the seat in front of him. Everything in between had been a jumbled confusion until the car horn. Now, he distinctly remembers watching the front of the white truck emerge from the side street, and the brief panic at what was about to happen, before blackness momentarily set in.

He knows everyone in the car is worried about him. If he's honest with himself, he's worried, too. He knows the confusion, dizziness, and headache are due to the concussion. However, he also knows that he's not coping emotionally with the incident, and at the moment, he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to think about what happened or what almost happened, and he definitely doesn't want to answer questions. Right now, he wants to go home.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Emily picking at her nails, consciously making an effort not to ask him how he is. He wants to grab her hand. Whether as a way of comforting her or as a way of comforting him, he isn't sure, but since his right arm is in a sling, he has no way of doing so, causing him to be even more irritated. He looks out the windows, trying to recognize the scenery to determine how close they are to the hotel, but the buildings and signs are passing by too fast for his concussed mind to keep up. He tightly closes his eyes again, trying to force away the nausea that arose by looking out the window. "How much longer."

JJ looks back at hearing his voice, happy to see he is no longer staring into space. "A few more blocks." She bites her lip, stopping herself from asking about his headache. She can tell its still bothering him, and part of her knows its worse than he's letting on. She wishes that she had spoken to Emily while at the station.

When the accident first happened and Rossi had slammed on the brakes, she had immediately run to the driver's side window, mostly because that was the only access she had while Rossi and two deputies worked on moving the other truck out of the way. She saw Morgan trying to push the airbag back down. The second she saw Wilkes dead in the passenger seat she had felt a sharp pang of sadness, another unnecessary death.

It wasn't until she looked in the back seat that she began to feel angry. Why anger, she didn't know, she still doesn't, but anger is what she felt. Reid wasn't moving, he was bleeding, and the pipe looked as though it had buried itself in his vest. She wanted to cry when she saw him start to move, and almost did when she saw him stand up.

The entire ordeal had only taken a few minutes, although it felt like longer. For a moment, she thought Reid was dead. After she realized he wasn't, she was still afraid that he could die. JJ hadn't even thought about what Emily would think, how she would feel, how it all affected her until she was standing there with them. She could tell her friend wanted to comfort Reid, to touch him and make sure he was okay.

JJ feels the anger start to build again. They both continue to act as though they're nothing more than friends, and it's really starting to piss her off. The only reason she hasn't told anyone is because they are her friends and she will respect their wishes. But the main reason is that she remembers fearing the team's reactions when she first got together with Will. Looking back, it was stupid, but she understands their wanting to keep it a secret.

At least she did before. Now, she's not so sure. They're both hurting and neither one is making an effort to openly comfort the other all for pretense. She had hoped that since Hotch and Morgan were staying at the station, Emily and Reid would at least talk while on the way to the hotel. Her and Rossi both know. There's no reason for why they are sitting silently in the back seat.

Before they began dating, they had openly comforted one another when it was needed. However, now that they are a couple, they have made a conscious effort to limit any show of emotion in front of the team. She's not expecting them to begin openly displaying their affection for one another, but a hug when someone comes close to dying is not out of the question. JJ makes up her mind to tell Emily as soon as they get to the hotel to ignore her worries about the team, and talk to Reid.

Rossi, however, doesn't give her a chance. As he slowly circles the parking lot searching for a space near the entrance, he begins talking. "I know it probably goes without saying, but I'm going to ask it anyway. I'm assuming that Hotch and Morgan don't know about you two?"

Emily sees the look of surprise on Reid's face at Rossi's question. If the situation were different, she'd have laughed at it. "No, not that we know of," she answers calmly, resulting in another look of surprise from Reid.

"And you still don't want them to, correct?" He slowly eases the car into a spot facing the busy street before turning to face the backseat. Emily looks to Reid, waiting to see if he's going to answer. When he doesn't, she slowly shakes her head, "No, not yet."

Rossi studies both of their faces, trying to make sure he isn't overstepping any boundaries. "What?" he asks when he sees the slight look of confusion and, what he thinks is amusement, on Reid's face.

Reid tilts his head and furrows his brow. "So we're done pretending that you don't know?"

"I caved. Sorry," Rossi quips with a small smile.

Though she can't see it, Emily's almost certain that the look of surprise she had previously seen on Reid's face is now mirrored on hers. Though she wants to ask Reid how long he had known that Rossi knew about them, she decides now isn't the time. Instead, she looks back towards Rossi as he continues with his original line of questioning.

"How's the head?" he asks Reid.

"Still concussed," Reid answers, not sure what Rossi's wanting to ask. "Why?" Rossi glances at Emily before answering Reid. "You're not planning on spending the night alone immediately after hitting your head that hard, are you?" Although he says it in the form of a question, his tone of voice suggests that he has no doubts as to what the answer will be.

Reid slowly shakes his head no and continues to stare at Rossi questioningly, still uncertain why Rossi is asking. Emily, however, suddenly begins to understand Rossi's unspoken worries. "Crap." She exhales sharply before leaning back in the seat. "They're gonna want to check on you," she says, clueing a still confused Reid in on her realization.

Turning in her seat, JJ says in a sympathetic but warning tone, "_Or_ they may want to spend the night."

"By 'they', you mean Morgan." Reid clarifies, feeling his headache suddenly intensify. He's always appreciated his friends and the way in which they show their concern. While their support and an offer to crash on the couch would have been more than welcome three months ago, now that he's with Emily, it's unnecessary.

"Exactly," Rossi replies, happy that everyone's on the same page. "I was just thinking that you might want to think of a plan before they get here and the offer's made."

Using her thumb to move her hair out of her face, Emily quietly thinks over their options. Not wanting to outright lie anymore than necessary, she suggests what she deems to be the best and most obvious course of action. "Why don't we just tell them I've already volunteered?"

"Sounds good to me." Reid hurriedly exits the car as fast as his cracked rib will allow. He hates the whole situation. He hates that Wilkes is dead. He hates the relief he feels that he's not. He hates the guilt he feels for being relieved. He hates the physical pain he's in and the disorientation caused by the concussion. And he definitely hates that he, Emily, and two of their closest friends are discussing the best way to deceive two of their other friends. _Three friends_ he thinks, suddenly remembering Garcia.

He doesn't want to be someone they can't trust. No matter what the reasons, he knows betrayal hurts and it takes a lot to earn back the trust that is lost. As he slowly starts walking towards the hotel's entrance, he thinks back to how he felt after Emily had come back. Although those feelings are long since gone, he can still recall the anger he had felt. He feels a sense of shame begin to rise in his chest as he remembers the first few months after the team learned about the Dilaudid, and his constant fight to regain their trust.

Those particular lies had negative connotations and had hurt or affected the entire team directly. And where as them keeping their relationship secret from the others won't cause any harm, Reid can't help thinking that nothing good can come from lying. As JJ pushes the button for the elevator, he remembers Morgan telling him years ago that trust is earned.

As he watches Emily searching through his bag of discarded clothes for the key to his room, he feels the butterflies in his stomach return; something that hadn't happened in a while. He loves the comfort and complete reliability he has with Emily. He knows that Hotch, Morgan, and Garcia will find out one day. He begins to feel the stress ease as he thinks about how Rossi and JJ have acted since finding out, and he knows that the others will understand he and Emily wanting to keep their personal life personal.

Well, Hotch and Morgan will. He'll just have to wait and see how Garcia reacts.

Other than a quick "thank you" when Emily hands Reid his key, no one says anything while in the elevator. Reid knows it's partly for his benefit, that they're letting him have his space and he appreciates it.

As soon as the elevator doors open on their floor, Reid exits first, quickly walking to his door. He tries opening the door, awkwardly using his left hand to slide the keycard into the lock before pulling it out and trying to grab the door with the same hand before the green light changes back to red. After three unsuccessful attempts, JJ silently takes the card from his hand and easily opens the door on the first try. He gives her a shy smile showing his thanks, and continues into his now unlocked room.

He walks to his go-bag sitting on the floor. Using the wall for support, he bends down as best as he can, searching the bag for a decent pair of pants. He sits on the edge of the bed, dark pair of chords in hand, and slowly changes into them from the scrub pants—a task made more difficult by the fact that he kept his shoes on.

He hates that he can't change his shirt. At the moment, he doesn't have the patience or will power necessary for tackling the sling and change of shirts with only one arm. He stuffs his belongings, scrub pants included messily into his go-bag, not caring for neatness and sits in the hard chair near the window, waiting for the time to leave.

* * *

><p>Emily free-falls backwards onto the bed, letting her arms spread out on either side. Today has sucked, and it's not even over yet. They're not supposed to dread the trip home. It's supposed to be something to look forward to. After Reid had exited the SUV, Rossi had promised to talk to Morgan about her staying with Reid. One less worry on her mind, about a million more left.<p>

She still doesn't know what she'll say to Reid when he's ready to talk, _if_ he's ever ready. She knows him well enough to know that he'll suffer silently unless coerced to talk. She can list half a dozen times she had convinced him to talk, sharing what was bothering him. Each time had come naturally, her knowing what to say from instinct and experience. But this time there's no instinct and she feels that this time, talking to Reid will be different. She'll be speaking with her boyfriend, not her friend and colleague.

She laughs a little at the thought. Reid is her boyfriend. She decides she hates that term, it sounds so generic. She thinks of past boyfriends and the feelings she had for them. While strong and intense at the time, none of her feelings then can compare to what she feels for Reid. She knows she loves him. She loves her whole team, but she really _loves _him. She's known it for a while now, she just hasn't told him.

She lies there for a long time, letting her thoughts overtake her mind. She ignores the voice telling her to stay awake, letting the pull of sleep take her. She's exhausted, physically and emotionally. She doesn't know how much time has passed when she's awoken by a sharp knock on her door.

"Sorry, I fell asleep," she explains when she opens the door to find Morgan standing on the other side. "Everyone ready to go?"

He nods, his go-bag in his hand. "Are you okay?" he asks, worried by the slip in her normally composed demeanor.

"Yeah, I'm good." She smiles, trying to convince him. She pulls the door shut behind her, and starts walking towards the elevator. JJ's already there, and gives a tired smile when they join her.

"Rossi says you're staying with Reid tonight?" She tries to look as though she isn't uncomfortable with the question, relieved that JJ is doing the same. "Yeah, paper said he shouldn't be by himself for at least twenty-four hours," she answers referring back to the handout the doctor had given them. "Is that okay?" She asks in her best nonchalant voice.

"Yeah, it's fine. I was just gonna say if you change your mind, I can do it." He shrugs, pushing the button for the lobby. "But the kid seems comfortable with you."

Emily looks to JJ, seeing her looking back at her out of the corner of her eyes. To Emily's relief, Morgan doesn't continue the conversation. They quickly walk towards the rest of the team, dropping their room keys off at the front desk on the way. Emily notices Hotch carrying Reid's bags as Reid stands next to the door looking incredibly uncomfortable.

The flight home was welcomingly silent. Reid had immediately gone to the corner seat and fallen asleep before the jet took off. Everyone spread out in the small cabin, giving each other the space needed to unwind after a bad case. Other than to wake Reid twice, causing him more irritation despite it being doctor's orders, no one spoke to anyone the entire flight.

As soon as they land, Hotch places Reid's bags in the back of Emily's car. As Reid sits in the passenger seat, Hotch turns to Emily, "Don't worry about going back to the office. Just take him home." If he seems surprised or curious as to why Emily's the one to stay with Reid, he doesn't show it. By the time she gets in the car and buckles her seatbelt, Reid is already asleep.

* * *

><p>She eases her body into the warm bath. She doesn't turn on the music, wanting the silence. Reid had gone straight to bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes, as soon as they walked through the door. She had thought about going to bed, but realized that she was too wired for sleep despite how tired she was.<p>

She sets her alarm on her phone to go off every two hours so she can wake Reid and monitor his concussion. She sets the phone on top of the towel next to the tub before sinking to her chin in the water. She feels the familiar sting of tears, and immediately blinks them away. She's emotional, and she hates the way it makes her feel.

She's always associated emotions with vulnerability. If you're too emotional on the job, you can be a liability. You're supposed to separate the job and your emotions. But she's not on the job right now. She's in Reid's bathtub, waiting for the alarm to go off so she can make him angry by waking him again.

She holds her nose as she bends her knees, allowing her head to fall beneath the surface of the water. She's always liked the feeling of being underwater, the heavy sounds caused by her body moving drumming in her ears. She counts to thirty before she comes back up.

As she wipes the water out of her eyes, her phone starts to ring. She leans over the side of the tub and grabs the phone, careful not to drip water on it. "Hello?"

"Hello yourself Mrs. Robinson, how's our baby boy?"

Emily rolls her eyes and smiles, preparing herself for Garcia's teasing. "PG, please don't _ever_ call me that."

"It was meant as a compliment."  
>"I'm not that much older than him."<p>

"Twelve years, almost thirteen," Garcia jibes, "but who's counting? Besides, with age comes experience, and our young doctor might need some. Speaking of, how is he?"

Emily tries to keep still, not wanting the movement of the water to be heard over the phone, alerting Garcia that she's in Reid's tub. "He's asleep right now. I have to wake him up in a couple of hours."

"But he's okay, right?" Garcia asks, her voice full of motherly concern.

"Yes, he's okay. He'll be back at work in a few days."

"So, how did you get stuck with nurse duty? Did you draw the lucky short straw, or did you valiantly volunteer?" Emily can actually hear the mischievousness in every syllable, picturing the exact smile she knows is on Garcia's face.

"I volunteered." She braves the answer, knowing it's only inviting more teasing.

"Well, that was very _friendly_ of you," Garcia teases. Emily just smiles, not really minding her friend's teasing. She can only imagine what Garcia will say when she learns that Emily's feelings for Reid far exceed a crush.

"Penelope, you act like I'm gonna take advantage of him."

"I'm just messing with you. I know you care for him, we all do. I'm just calling to make sure all of my babies are okay."

Emily loves Garcia's openness about her feelings when it comes to her friends, her family. "He's okay, a little shook up, but okay," she informs the technical analyst.

"Sweetie, I said _all_ of my babies. That includes you, too."

Emily smiles again. "I'm okay, too."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She hangs up the phone, returning it back to its place on the towel. She reaches for a washcloth, wanting to hurry and leave the tub before the water begins to cool.

When the alarm on her phone goes off two hours later, she quietly walks into the bedroom. She sees Reid lying on his back, the sling for his arm abandoned on the floor. She frowns when she sees that he has pulled off the bandage on his head, revealing a line of stitches starting just above his temple and disappearing into his scalp.

She doesn't want to wake him, knowing he needs the sleep. For a moment, she considers letting him sleep before she remembers how adamant he had been about her following the doctor's orders when she had received a concussion years before.

Leaning over him, she gently shakes his good shoulder. "Reid, wake up." She has to repeat herself several times before he finally wakes up. She sees confusion clouding his eyes before being replaced with annoyance.

He rubs a tired hand across his face before moving to sit up. As he tries to push himself off the bed, he grimaces at the pain that shoots through his shoulder. She takes his arm and pulls him, helping him to sit up fully.

"What time is it?" His voice is gravelly and his tone sharp. "Almost five," she picks the sling up off the floor, "why aren't you wearing this?"

"It's uncomfortable, I couldn't sleep." He carefully runs a finger back and forth along the line of stitches on his head. "Damn stitches itch." Sleepy Reid equals short sentences. Aggravated Reid equals bad mood.

He stands and walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, more for something to do than because he's hungry. Emily keeps her distance, letting his anger at being woken up subside.

He slams the fridge shut before walking to the sink, fixing a glass of water. Emily slowly walks towards him, and leans against the counter facing him. She watches as he slowly sips from the glass, his eyes focused on the faucet. "Are you okay?" she asks, keeping her hands to herself.

"Tap water tastes disgusting," he replies, refusing to look at her.

"Reid, I asked if…"

"I heard you. I wish everyone would stop asking me that." His voice is shaky, his nerves showing through.

"Maybe everyone would, if you managed to give an honest answer." She feels her anger start to build, annoyed with his stubbornness.

"What do you want me to say, Emily?" he snaps, dropping the glass into the sink.

"The truth. I'm not asking you to sit down and have a therapy session or try and explain your feelings. I'm asking you to tell me what's wrong. To tell me how to help you." She's almost begging. She hates that he can do that to her.

"I don't know. I don't know what to tell you, I don't know what I want you to tell me, and I definitely don't know how I feel about it." He's yelling now, causing Emily's posture to stiffen. She knows this needs to happen, she just doesn't know if she's ready for it.

"What if I tell you what I feel?" She tries to keep her voice calm, a warm juxtaposition to his cold harshness. He doesn't say anything, but he turns towards her, inviting her to talk.

"I'm a mess. I want to cry, and… I don't know if it's because I'm sad that you almost died, or if it's because I'm pissed that you had to go through that. I hate that you're hurt, and I hate that I can't do anything." She keeps her eyes focused on her hands, trying to identify her feelings without letting them overwhelm her.

She breathes deeply, looking up only when she's certain she won't breakdown. Her breath catches as soon as her eyes meet his. He doesn't look angry anymore. His jaw is clenched, one hand gripping the sink tightly while the other hangs at his side. She takes a step towards him, placing a hand on the back of his neck when she sees the tears he's reluctantly crying.

She pulls his head towards her, letting him rest against her shoulder as the tears increase. She wraps her arms around him, one hand tangling in his hair. She isn't embarrassed when she realizes that she's crying too. They stand there like that for several minutes, neither one saying anything.

She feels him begin to steady his breathing, slowly gaining back control. She doesn't move a muscle, not wanting to push him away. He places a hand on her waist, as he pulls his head up. She wants to reach up and wipe the tears, but keeps her hands locked behind his neck instead.

He looks around the dark kitchen, trying to organize his thoughts. "I don't know how to do this." It's almost a whisper, and if Emily hadn't been as close as she is, she would have missed it.

"Do what?"

"This. With you." Seeing the shock in her eyes, he quickly tries to backtrack. "Not like that. I mean, yes like that, but just because I don't know how doesn't mean I don't want to." She nods, letting him know she understands without interrupting him. "I was in that seat. If you hadn't pulled me away, I still would have been. I'd be dead right now, and Wilkes would be dizzy." His voice is calm now, steady despite the shaking in his hands. "And we keep lying. I'm tired, and sleepy and everyone keeps waking me up, and we keep lying to them."

She unlocks her fingers and wipes his tears with her thumbs before resting her hands on either side of his neck. She knows he's exhausted and can tell by his sudden rambling that the concussion still has him disoriented.

She rubs her thumb along his carotid, feeling the pulse beating against the skin. "We can tell them. First thing tomorrow, I will go in and tell them. Hell, I can call Garcia right now and the others will know before I even get there."

"I don't know if I want them to know yet. I just don't want to lie anymore."

She looks at him, trying to decide if now is the time to point out the flaw in his logic, or really his lack of logic.

He gives a shaky laugh at the look on her face, "I know it doesn't make sense."

"Good. I was starting to think that concussion was worse than we thought," she jokes. She smiles when she sees that crooked grin. "They won't be mad you know." She had thought about it. Rossi and JJ have both shown support. She knows Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia will, too. Morgan will tease relentlessly, but he'll still be supportive.

"I know," he admits.

"So we can tell them whenever we want. It doesn't have to be now." He nods in response, exhaling deeply with the release of stress. "You can go to sleep now. I won't wake you up until I leave for work. Promise."

He laughs again, but follows her to the bedroom. "I need a different shirt." She turns to see him awkwardly pulling the shirt over his head before dropping it on the floor. She walks to his dresser and pulls out a faded black t-shirt.

He doesn't say anything as she walks to him, her eyes looking over his wrapped torso. She keeps the folded shirt at her side as she examines the bruises covering his breastbone, steadily growing more intense in color before disappearing beneath the wrapped bandage. She runs her fingertips along his clavicle, careful not to apply pressure. She knows that the bandage is hiding stitches and even worse bruising.

"I'm sorry." His voice is soft, once again a whisper.

"For what?" she asks, keeping her fingers on his skin.

"For scaring you, for you having to be scared and angry." She leans forward and kisses him on the side of his jaw. She smiles as she gestures to the shirt in her hands. Without giving him a chance to attempt to dress his self, she carefully eases his hand through the arm of the shirt before pulling it over his head. He pushes his good arm through the other sleeve and pulls the shirt the rest of the way down.

"You really should wear the sling." She picks it up off the bed, pulling the Velcro apart to put back on his shoulder.

"No, I can't sleep with it. The wrap's bad enough." He rubs a hand along his chest, feeling the edges of the bandage beneath his shirt.

"Fine, let's just go to sleep." She says, as he starts to yawn. She pulls back the covers, climbing in on her side.

He turns off the lamp before climbing in beside her. Almost five minutes pass in complete silence before he asks in a barely awake voice, "If I go to sleep, you won't wake me up until you leave, right?"

"Promise."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Right now, I'm preparing for some serious weather. I'm in Alabama, and most of today was spent in storm shelters because tornado sirens kept going off. Lucky for you stress causes me to write faster, and my nerves are shot because we're still trying to get over the tornadoes from last April, and now we're being told to prepare for more. This chapter is eleven pages long. Nine of those pages were written while watching the weatherman point out red spots on the radar.**

**I also want to point out that although I'm living in Alabama, I'm originally from Louisiana. It'll always be my home, and not including Katrina, I'd prefer a hurricane to a tornado. You have a better warning with a hurricane. No idea why I wanted to say that. I tend to ramble when I'm nervous. And I'm nervous. Hoped you enjoyed the chapter!**

****Once again, I want to thank everyone for the amazing reviews. It motivates me to write more. Seriously, if it weren't for the reviews, I'd just continue sitting around daydreaming instead of writing the thoughts down and posting them. I really appreciate reading what the reader's think.****


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Dear Mother Nature, I would like to thank you for not being a _complete_ bitch. Sincerely, Blayne**

* * *

><p>Today had been long and tedious. A slow day, full of paperwork and not much else. She had spent the majority of her time rethinking the events that had taken place the day before. Half the time she was thinking about the case and the accident, the other half was spent replaying the conversation in Reid's kitchen.<p>

The more she thinks about it, the more she wants the team to know, the _whole_ team. She understands Reid's concerns, but the others will find out eventually. And while it's easier to try and delay the inevitable, constantly telling yourself that you will do it tomorrow, she knows it needs to happen soon.

She opens the front door, cautious of making too much noise in case he's sleeping. She had called him throughout the day, mostly to check in on him but also to help the day go by faster. The last time she had called, she had woken him up.

She pushes the door shut and locks the deadbolt, noting the silence filling the apartment.

She feels tense, the stress of the last few days straining her muscles. She could workout, put all of her frustration into physical exertion, relieve some stress before attempting to talk Reid into telling Morgan and Hotch that they've been secretly dating for just over three months now.

The dark clouds that had followed her home threaten to ruin any plan for running around the block, and she doesn't feel like driving to the gym. She plops on the couch, sighing when she realizes all of her workout clothes are either dirty or at her apartment.

She tiptoes into the bedroom, and smiles when she sees Reid spread out on the bed, blankets tangled around his long limbs. Slowly opening the top drawer on the far left, she pulls out a sports bra and dark tank top. She quietly pushes the drawer closed before opening the one below, pulling out the pair of dark green, plaid pajama bottoms lying on top.

She goes into the bathroom and quickly changes. Looking in the mirror, she laughs at her appearance while pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. The pajama bottoms are far too long, forcing her to roll the waistband several times in an attempt to make them fit better. She kicks her bare feet, trying to free them from the ends of the long pants.

She walks into the living room and pushes the coffee table against the couch, giving her more room to work. She doesn't have a mat or the DVD, meaning she'll have to do it from memory on the bare floor. Placing both feet side by side, she slowly extends her arms above her head, stretching them as far as they'll go before bending at the waist, reaching for her painted toes.

She focuses all her attention on each move, making certain her form is right, that her breathing is regular. She stretches until she feels the burn, holds the position until fatigue forces her to change. Plank, upward dog, extended warrior. Stretch, bend, push, extend. She keeps going until she feels beads of sweat start to slide down her back, and then she pushes on, ignoring the thunder outside.

As she lies on her back, pulling her knee into her chest, she inhales through her nose before exhaling fully. She's about to switch legs when Reid's voice causes her to jump, disrupting her intense focus.

"Are those my pants?"

She relaxes her body, arms and legs falling loosely beside her as she leans her head back, viewing him upside down. "I don't have any yoga pants here," she defends, taking in his rumpled appearance, "and my pjs are too tight for yoga."

"Aren't yoga pants supposed to be tight?"

"Stretchy tight, yes. But these looked comfy." She stands and adjusts the pants on her hips, before heading to the kitchen. She grabs a bottle of water and turns to see Reid pulling a box of cereal out of the cabinet. She watches as he fixes him a bowl, leaving both the box of cereal and the gallon of milk on the counter as he sits down.

She twists the lid back on the bottle of water as a flash of lightning illuminates the kitchen window. _One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississip…_ thunder booms, rattling the frame of the building.

"Hey," she says lamely, setting the water next to the milk as she waits for his attention.

"Hey," he says, imitating her tone before taking a large bite of cereal, milk dripping off the spoon.

"So, I've been thinking…" she grins, biting her lip, letting him know she's not comfortable with what she has to say, "maybe we should go ahead and let the whole team know, officially go public."

She doesn't say anything else as she gives him time to finish chewing his last bite of cereal and think about what she's proposed. He stares at his bowl, focusing on the small bubbles in the milk along the bowl's edge. He brings the spoon back up to his mouth, stopping long enough to say, 'Okay," before taking a bite.

"Okay?" She's relieved that he's on board, but a little confused all the same. "Last night, you didn't want them to know." She stops when she sees him shaking his head.

"I'm not opposed to them knowing, I'm opposed to telling them," he explains, his words muffled by the cereal.

"What?" She deadpans. He swallows before repeating, "I said I'm not…"

"Yeah, I heard what you said, I just don't know what you meant by it."

He drops the spoon in the bowl and rests his arms on the countertop, leaning towards her. "How would we tell them?"

"What do mean 'how'?"

"Exactly what it implies: how would we actually tell them? Do we just walk in, sit down, and say 'Hey, guess what? We've been sleeping together for the last three months, sorry we haven't mentioned it'?"

"If that's how you want to do it, then yeah. In fact, you can let Hotch know," she bites back, her tone as sarcastic as his. She squints her eyes playfully. She doesn't want this to turn into a fight. To her relief he laughs before picking up the spoon again. "Could you imagine if we actually said that to him?"

She laughs, too as she pictures how Hotch would possibly look if Reid were to break the news in that manner. She sits down in the high-backed stool, "So, you don't care _if_ they know…"

"I'd actually prefer if they did, no more lying."

"You're just nervous about having to physically tell them?"

"Exactly. That and I don't want them knowing to change the dynamic between us."

She nods, absorbing this information as he finishes his cereal. This entire time, she had been under the impression that he didn't _want_ them to know. "Do you mean the dynamic between _us _the team, or _us_ you and me?"

"Both."

"How would them knowing change that? Rossi and JJ know and it hasn't changed anything."

"I know, but you don't think that everyone knowing will affect things? What if Hotch doesn't trust that we'll be able to be objective in the field, or …"

"Reid. You just said you'd prefer it if they knew."

He stops, thinking about his contradicting views. He taps his thumb on the handle of the spoon, irritated that everything seems to be so complicated. He shakes his head, before shrugging his arms in surrender.

"Honestly, I don't know. I _do_ know that I love you and I don't want things to change between us. It'd be different if we didn't work together, but we're still 'you and me' when we're out in the field. I don't doubt that they'll be supportive as friends, I'm worried that they…what?" He stops the fast-paced explanation, confused by Emily's expression.

Her eyes are wide, made bright by a mixture of surprise and excitement. Her mouth is slightly open, the hint of a smile threatening to break through. A slight blush is starting to spread across her chest, and he doesn't know if it's her body trying to cool down from her workout or a reaction to their conversation. He's about to ask her what's wrong, when she slowly places both hands on the countertop and says in a calm voice, "Reid, I want you to repeat what you just said."

"Why?"

"Please,…" Confused, he rewinds his thoughts, thinking back to the beginning of his explanation.

"You said 'Reid. You just said you'd prefer it if they knew.' And then I said, 'Honestly, I don't know. I do know that I love you and I don't want…"

He's so focused on repeating what he said that he doesn't see her stand and lean across the counter. She wraps a hand around his neck and kisses him. She can taste the sugar and cinnamon from the cereal. She's caught him off guard, but no more than three seconds pass before his mind catches up and he kisses her back.

She breaks the kiss, looking him straight in the eyes, not caring that she's smiling like a thirteen-year-old girl.

He raises an eyebrow and licks his lips. "I'm not complaining, but do you mind explaining what that was for?"

Still smiling, she asks in a shaky whisper, "Did you mean everything you said?"

He doesn't want to answer right away, choosing instead to play back everything that's been said since he woke up to find her doing yoga on his living room floor. His brain freezes when he understands what it is she's talking about. _I do know that I love you_. He had told her he loves her.

He smiles when he realizes what her reaction means. "You mean that whole 'I love you' thing?" his smile matches hers, "Yeah, I meant that."

"Good," she kisses him again, "because I love you, too."

"That's a relief, otherwise, this would be awkward."

She sits back in her seat, still smiling. "So, we're telling them?"

"Yeah, we're telling them." He stands and puts the milk back in the fridge. "Or you could tell them," he offers while setting the empty bowl in the sink, "Or you could call Garcia like you said and have her do it for us."

"No, I kind of promised JJ she could tell Garcia when we were ready." Seeing the slight frown on his face at this admission, she points out, "I said _when we _were ready." She pulls the ponytail holder out of her hair, letting the dark strands fall around her shoulders. "I'm gonna shower, we've got all weekend to plan the best way to tell them."

"Then I'm gonna go back to sleep."

"When do you go back to the doctor?" She asks, a little worried with the amount he's been sleeping the last two days.

"Sunday." She hears him call from the kitchen as she grabs a clean tank top before sneaking another pair of his pajama pants out of the drawer. She's walking into the bathroom as he climbs into bed, wincing as the movement aggravates his sore ribs.

By the time she finishes showering he's already fast asleep. She pulls her slightly damp hair into a bun and climbs in beside him, feeling happier than she has in a long time.

* * *

><p>The next morning comes entirely way to soon in Reid's opinion. Despite having slept for over ten hours, he's still tired when his phone begins to ring. "Spencer Reid," he mumbles against the pillow once he manages to get the phone to his ear.<p>

"Good morning, Mr. Reid. I'm with Horizon Financials and Loans. Are you interested in…" He pushes the end call button before tossing the phone back on the nightstand. As he feels Emily sit up in bed, he asks in a slightly annoyed tone, "Do you think Garcia could block all telemarketers from calling my phone?"

"Couldn't hurt to ask."

"Remind me to do that." He stretches his left arm while he walks to the bathroom. After washing his hands, he tries raising his right arm, but stops once he gets shoulder level. He should still be wearing the sling, but hates the way it rubs against the wrap currently stabilizing his bruised ribs.

He carefully pulls his shirt over his head, before looking at the bandage that has begun to come unwound. He pulls at the end, slowly unwrapping it from around his torso. He tosses the gauze into the trash bin, and drops the ace bandage on the counter. The bruising is almost black at the worst point, gradually fading to purple before turning to a dull red with tinges of yellow. The stitches are swollen, a half-crescent etched in string and skin about an inch below the slight outline of his pectoral muscle.

He puts his shirt back on, hiding the reminder that, were it not for good fortune and Kevlar, he would be dead. He shudders when he thinks about what would have happened if the SUV had gone an inch further before stopping.

He walks out of the bathroom and grabs the arm sling off the dresser. Emily silently walks over and tightens the Velcro, helping to secure his shoulder from moving.

He watches her face as her fingers adjust the strap on his neck. "Did you really say you loved me last night, or was that a dream my bruised brain created?"

She smiles as she looks up at him. "That depends. Do you still love me?"

"Yes."  
>"Then no, Dr. Reid, your bruised brain isn't deceiving you."<p>

"Just checking."

She laughs as she makes her way across the room for her turn in the bathroom. He resists the urge to make coffee as he looks through the fridge for something to eat, regretting having finished the last of the cereal the night before.

He's looking for pop-tarts when someone knocks on his door. He swears that his heart literally stops for a moment when he looked through the peephole and sees Derek Morgan standing there. _So much for having all weekend to plan on how to tell them._

He takes a few deep breaths, steadying his nerves before opening the door. "Hey, Morgan." His voice is shaky, but Morgan doesn't call him on it.

"Hey, man. You look better than the last time I saw you."

"Thanks." Reid steps aside, letting Morgan walk into the apartment. "What are you doing here?"

Morgan looks slightly offended and a little worried. "I called you yesterday, remember? Said I was coming over today?"

"Oh. Yeah. I remember now." The day before, Reid had received many phone calls. Most of them from Garcia and Emily, but Morgan and JJ had called as well. JJ to make sure he was okay, and Morgan to ask if he wanted to have lunch the next day, something that he had completely forgotten.

Reid's about to apologize to Morgan when Emily walks out of the bedroom. "Hey Reid, were you supposed to take off the…uh, hi." She stutters when she sees Morgan standing next to Reid.

"Uh, hi," Morgan echoes, taking in Emily's appearance. Her hair is stacked messily on top of her head, stray strands revealing that she just woke up. She's wearing a thin, yellow tank top and pajama pants that are obviously not hers.

She quickly crosses her arms across her chest, as she slowly backs into the bedroom. "I'll be _right_ back."

Morgan turns to the living room, looking at the couch, which clearly has not been slept on. He turns back to Reid, eyebrows raised high as he gestures a thumb towards the bedroom. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, um…" Reid rocks back on his heels, trying to think of what to say. He knows he normally does his best thinking when under extreme terror, but normally he's fully awake and isn't suffering from a concussion.

Emily walks back into the room, a dark grey FBI hoodie covering her thin tank top. She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ears before smiling shyly at Morgan. All three stand in uncomfortable silence for several seconds before Morgan grows impatient. "Again. What the hell?"

The fact that his tone reveals shock and not anger helps return Reid's heart rate to an almost human pace. He nervously bites his lip as he looks to Emily for guidance.

She squares her shoulders, thinking of half a dozen ways that would have been more ideal for him to find out. "Morgan, um…we kind of…" she turns to Reid, hoping he can complete the sentence.

"She spent the night," he finishes, his voice a little higher than before.

"I can see that. What I want to know is how long she's been spending the night." Morgan looks back and forth between his two friends, not believing what he's seeing.

"A few months," Emily states, relaxing a little as she recovers from the shock of seeing him there.

"A few months?"

"Three months, six days." Reid clarifies, wishing he had stayed in bed.

"Three months…" Morgan stares, letting the information sink in, "…son of a bitch." He shakes his head and laughs, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "Seriously?"

Reid exhales a sigh of relief. "Seriously," he confirms, happy that Morgan doesn't seem offended at not being kept in the loop.

"Damn." Morgan just laughs again, before turning to Emily. "You and Reid, huh?"

Emily shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah, it surprised me, too," she teases, making sure Reid catches her wink. "You jealous, Morgan?" she grins.

"Of Reid's skinny ass? No, why would I be?" He flashes that wide smile.

"Hey, Reid's standing right here. No need to talk about him," Reid says, realizing the teasing isn't going to wait until he's had something to eat.

"Oh no, Pretty Boy, you asked for it," Morgan gloats as he places a hand on Reid's shoulder, "And by 'you', I mean both of you. Don't think you're getting out of it, Princess."

"Like I expected you to magically mature overnight?" She rolls her eyes, unable to keep the smile off her face.

"Ouch. All right Romeo, you two go get dressed. I'm hungry."

"Actually, I'm supposed to call JJ. She wanted to meet for lunch." She turns to Reid as a thought crosses her mind. "You two can come with us."

"Wait, JJ knows?" Morgan asks.

"Rossi, too." Reid answers. "JJ's got dibs on telling Garcia."

"What about Hotch?"

"We haven't told him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know," Emily calls over her shoulder as she's walking to the bedroom. "Are you two coming with me and JJ or no? I'm about to call her."

"Yeah, we're coming." While Emily shuts the bedroom door, Morgan turns to look back at Reid. His arm's still in a sling, and he's standing like it hurts to breathe. As his eyes glance over the gash on Reid's head, he thinks back to how Reid and Emily had acted after the accident. Reid's sudden absence of shyness at being shirtless in front of Emily suddenly making sense.

The fact that they always arrived or left work within fifteen minutes of one another, also making sense. Emily obviously being at ease with digging in Reid's messenger bag for a pen, paperclip, piece of candy, or anything else she might need. Reid not caring when she stole food from his plate. All the things Morgan had mistaken for signs of their repairing friendship suddenly takes on new meaning.

He silently curses himself for not seeing it sooner. He laughs again, realizing it was almost inevitable. The two had been growing steadily closer over the years, building a friendship that had stood apart from that shared by the rest of the team. Morgan follows Reid into the kitchen, and smiles, genuinely happy for his friends.

"You know you're gonna have to tell me how this all got started."

Reid just nods as he pushes his unruly hair out of his face. "We had trouble sleeping."

"And what? Decided that continuing _not_ to sleep was the best remedy?"

Reid laughs, "It's worked so far." He can hear Emily talking to JJ in the other room, her voice barely audible through the closed door.

Reid sits down in the seat he had the night before. "I'd offer to make coffee, but I'm not supposed to have any until tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah. How is that?" Morgan asks, gesturing to the line of stitches showcasing the concussion.

"It's better. What about you?" Reid looks at Morgan's swollen eyes, the bridge of his nose dark with bruising. Two strips of white tape placed over his left brow.

"I'm good," he answers as Emily walks into the room. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, a pair of fitted jeans and black shirt replacing her earlier ensemble.

Realizing that they're waiting on him, Reid quickly dresses before they leave to meet JJ.

* * *

><p>"Look who finally decided to join the enlightened," JJ teases while she picks up Henry, resting his weight on her hip.<p>

"Yeah, I want to hear how you found out before me." Morgan holds the door open as JJ, Reid, and Emily walk into the diner. They quickly sit at a booth, Henry settling between Emily and JJ.

"What's to tell? Maybe I'm just a better profiler." JJ jokes, moving all of the silverware out of Henry's reach.

"_Or_, she's just a lot nosier than you and has a tendency to ask more questions," Emily smiles at the indignant look on JJ's face before she starts laughing in defeat.

"Or there's that," she admits as the waitress starts handing out menus.

Morgan reaches over and unwraps the two crayons that accompanied the children's menu and hands them to Henry. They each place their order, Morgan and JJ eager to continue the conversation, where as Reid and Emily are more than happy to wait.

"So, who gets to tell Hotch?" Morgan asks as soon as the waitress walks away.

JJ immediately looks up, "Oh, please let me do it," she begs.

Morgan quickly holds a hand up, stopping her from continuing. "Now wait a minute. You already get to tell Garcia."

"Uh, how about if _we_ tell him?" Emily asks, "I mean, it is about us."

Without looking up from the tower of sugar packets he's stacking, Reid quickly states, "I don't want to tell him. Morgan can."

"Reid, seriously?" Emily asks. Reid keeps his eyes on the small construction in front of him as he nods his head. "I'm all for avoiding awkward situations."

"Since when?" Morgan asks, tossing a wadded up straw paper at the sugar packet fort, earning him an annoyed glare from Reid.

Emily just shakes her head, noting the fact that Henry's behaving better than Reid and Morgan. "Fine. JJ's telling Garcia, and Morgan can tell Hotch."

"Wait to tell Penelope on Monday. I want to be there when she finds out." Morgan grins, knowing if anybody's reaction will be worth watching it'll be hers.

The remainder of their lunch is passed by Emily and Reid answering any questions JJ and Morgan can think of, refusing to answer a few, and theorizing about what will happen Monday.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you once again to those who have reviewed. Still riding out the storms, but I thank you, em6049, SpemilyFan, and Fairytopia for your concern and well wishes. So far, so good.**

**And to everyone who reads/enjoys this chapter, you can thank Lolyncut (Once again, thanks for the review). While I'm the one who wrote it, I had no idea where to go after chapter 11, hard-core writer's block and such, then I read her review and I told myself, "Self, make what she said happen." And it was so. I'm ashamed to admit I'm pretty suggestible, but whole-heartedly believe in giving credit where credit is due.  
><strong>

**Now, the power's out and my computer's battery is about to surrender. So, I'm gonna hurry and post this before I break out the deck of cards and start playing Solitaire old school. We're talking by candle light type of old school.**


	13. Chapter 13

Reid closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He feels Emily give a reassuring squeeze to his wrist as the doors to the elevator open, the familiar glass double doors within sight. Monday morning. His first time back at work since the accident. He had been given the clear by the doctor for limited duty and no fieldwork. Translation, he once again finds himself labeled as 'Garcia's Bitch'.

"Are you ready?" Emily asks, her voice calm and void of any sign of nerves.

"Do I have a choice?" He's quiet, pushing his hair to cover the still healing stitches near his temple, ignoring the looks from the other elevator passengers as he and Emily exit and walk towards the bullpen.

He doesn't know what to expect. The entire weekend had been spent playing out different scenarios in his head detailing the many ways Morgan could tell Hotch about his and Emily's relationship. Almost none were preferable in Reid's opinion. The idea of everyone's attention being focused on him and Emily was nerve wracking. The fact that it involved something as personal as an intimate relationship just made it worse.

As soon as they walk through the doors, Reid immediately looks towards Hotch's office, half expecting to see Morgan walking out with a huge grin plastered on his face. Reid almost smiles at the absurdity of it all, absently wondering if this is what kids feel like when they know they're doomed to be called into the principal's office.

There's no sign of Morgan. Although Hotch's door is closed, Reid can still see the man's tense form hunched over his desk, most likely reviewing their next case. Reid quietly sits at his desk, looking over in time to see Emily walk in the direction of the break room. He smiles realizing that this is the first time they've walked into work together.

They had intentionally left her apartment late enough that they would arrive to work just on time. Reid had been in no hurry to get here any earlier than necessary. He sets his messenger bag on his desk and starts looking for the work release form his doctor had given him. Hotch had been very clear that Reid was to turn it in before he would be allowed to 'so much as glance at a consult', let alone participate on an active case. He had also made it perfectly clear that the form had to be from an actual medical doctor.

Reid looks up as Emily sits a dark blue coffee mug on the side of his desk, steam billowing over the rim. "You gonna turn it in now, or wait until after Morgan shows up?" She looks at the blue piece of paper clutched in Reid's hand before looking back at him.

"I'm gonna wait until he asks for it. Just in case." He sets the paper to the side and carefully reaches for the cup of coffee, ribs protesting at the stretch. When he looks up, he's met with Emily's slightly amused smirk.

"Just in case, what Dr. Reid?"

"In case Morgan already told him," he answers honestly. Emily's smile only widens as she walks back to her desk. She sets her coffee down and turns on her computer before turning back to face Reid. "You're so adorable when you're terrified. You know that?"

Reid gives her an indignant glare before following her example and turning on his own computer. "I'm not terrified."

"Yeah you are," Rossi's voice calls from the stairs, empty coffee cup in hand. "The adorable part is debatable, but you're _definitely_ terrified."

"I thought we agreed no more eave's dropping." Reid states as he feels a blush begin to darken his face.

"I only agreed that you wouldn't eave's drop on me. And I wasn't eave's dropping. I just happened to over hear as I was walking by. Big difference." He defends as he continues past them on his way to the coffee machine.

After filling his coffee, Rossi walks towards Emily and Reid and sits at one of the vacant desks. "So, has Morgan told him yet?" Both Emily and Reid look up at his question. Emily shrugs as she deletes half of her e-mail's in-box. "No idea," she says, her attention still on the screen in front of her. Reid pushes the medical release form back and forth across his empty desk as a thought crosses his mind.

"Hey Rossi. Does Hotch already know, I mean did he know before?" Reid watches the older man, hopeful that he'll say yes. Rossi just shrugs his shoulder and tilts his head. "If he did, he hasn't said anything to me about it." He leans back into the seat, propping one foot on his knee. "You know, we're not as big of gossips as you seem to think," he adds, earning a sudden laugh from Emily.

Rossi looks at her pointedly, Emily rolling her eyes in response. "Rossi, the only person that's a bigger gossip than you is Garcia." Rossi opens his mouth to retaliate, but quickly shuts it as Garcia walks through the double glass doors, Morgan and JJ close behind.

"Good morning, Agent Rossi. If you would join Agents Morgan, Jareau and myself in the conference room please. We have a case."

Rossi looks to Reid and Emily, all three sharing a look of confusion. "Well, that was unusual," says Rossi as he slowly stands and starts to follow the trio up the stairs.

Emily grabs her bag, quickly pulling her tablet out before looking at Reid. "Why do I get the feeling that she's not happy with us?" Reid grabs his bag and the blue medical release form, and swiftly follows Emily up the stairs.

They quickly take their seats, Emily sitting to the right of Reid. Reid tries not to look uncomfortable as Hotch walks in and takes the seat on his left. Reid gently lays his medical release form on the table and slides it towards Hotch.

Hotch picks up the paper, reading it over before slipping it under his notepad. "Thank you, Reid." Reid simply nods and gives an awkward smile in response, still too nervous to actually say anything.

Reid looks to Emily, a look of frustration on her face as she searches through her tablet. Looking at the table in front of him, he notices Garcia has yet to give him the case file. He looks towards the multi-colored trapper keeper lying in front of Garcia's seat, a feathered pen proudly sticking out from beneath the cover. He frowns when he doesn't see a manila folder.

Garcia promptly stands, remote in hand and begins the briefing. "Okay, crime fighters. Your brilliant and oftentimes underappreciated talents have once again been called upon. The small tow…"

"Hey, Garcia. I can't find the file on my tablet." Emily holds up her tablet, showing the blank blue screen to the technical analyst.

"And I don't have a file either." Reid says, watching as Garcia starts tapping her fingers on the remote in her hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you expect me to _share_ that information with you? Is that what friends do? _Share_ important facts with one another. Important things like "I'm dating one of my best friends?" Her voice remains calm and friendly, which only acts to intensify the scariness of her rant.

"Garcia." Hotch's stern voice cuts in, temporarily saving Emily and Reid from Garcia's retaliation at what she views as a betrayal. Hearing Hotch say her name, Garcia quickly opens her trapper keeper and pushes a folder across the table before tapping on the tablet lying in front of her.

Emily leans forward and pulls the file towards Reid before opening the recently received file on her own tablet. Garcia glares at Emily, a slight smile now on her face. "We are going to talk, missy," she informs her friend before resuming informing them of the series of murders involving college students in Vermont.

Reid scans through the file, setting every word to memory. He pulls aside three photos, each showing a smiling student. Two boys, one girl. They look proud, happy. Each had obviously taken care to look their best in preparation for the photo, none knowing that they would one day be used to give faces to the victims in a murder investigation.

The rest of the photos are dark, having been taken at night. The flash of the camera illuminates the body, highlighting the deep pools of blood, while leaving the rest of the frame in darkness. Reid looks at the faces in these photos, each drastically different from the ones before.

Garcia continues to click through the photos, explaining the details of the coroner's reports, locations of the dumpsites, and any details she feels may be important in victimology. They discuss specifics, clarifying what they know and what's conjecture.

The briefing ends, Garcia clicking the remote once more, resulting in the screen turning black with a small static pop. Hotch grabs his notes, and stands to leave the table. "Wheels up in thirty," he turns to Reid and Emily and says in a quiet, but stern voice, "I need to speak to you two," before walking out of the room.

Any sense of calm that Reid had managed to accumulate since stepping off the elevator immediately disintegrates. He looks up to see Morgan and JJ looking at him, each offering him a sympathetic smile. Emily squeezes his shoulder before grabbing her things and following Hotch. Taking another deep breath, Reid once again steadies his nerves and begins to make his way to Hotch's office.

Reid walks into the office, closing the door behind him. He silently stands next to Emily, each waiting for Hotch's reaction, each unsure of what it will be. Hotch reaches and turns off his computer, before turning to face the couple.

He stands straight, his arms hanging down at his side. A full four seconds pass before Hotch says anything. Reid counts. Four seconds before Reid relaxes.

"So three months, huh?" a small uncharacteristic smile crosses Hotch's face before he picks up his go-bag and sets it on his desk. Emily smiles in return as she feels the tension leave her body. She hadn't even realized how nervous she had been.

"Three months," she confirms. Hotch looks back and forth between the two, smile still in place. "I don't have to worry about you keeping it professional in the field, do I?"

Both Reid and Emily look at Hotch, somewhat confused. "Have we not been professional so far?" she asks.

"No, you've been professional, so much so that Morgan was stumped, and the fact that you've managed to keep it from Garcia, well that's just impressive. I'm just saying it to cover all bases. Just in case."

"So you knew?" Emily speaks up again.

"For three months? No, but I had my suspicions. You two were just too comfortable with one another."

"In all fairness, it kind of happened by accident." Reid finally manages to find his voice, the steadiness in it surprising even himself. "So we're not in trouble?" he asks, pointing between Emily and himself.

"No, you're not in trouble. You make a good couple," Hotch grabs his go-bag, keys, and the notes he had taken during the briefing, "Personally I'm just happy that Garcia has someone else's personal life to obsess over." He looks at Emily once more as they start to walk out of the office. "And it's nice to hear you're not actually in a relationship with your cat."

"What? Your ca…Sergio?" Reid looks completely confused, and a little alarmed. Emily laughs loudly as she pushes him out of the office, Hotch closing the door as he follows them out.

* * *

><p>Reid makes himself at home in the back of Garcia's office. She had made it perfectly clear he isn't allowed to touch any of her computers unless given permission. Remembering the way she had treated them during the briefing that morning, Reid is careful not to touch anything that he hadn't brought in with him.<p>

Garcia walks back in the office and hands Reid the newly acquired map as well as some brightly colored, over-sized pins. Reid looks at the pins, each about an inch in height and shakes his head. "Uh, Garcia, do you have any smaller tacks? Preferably ones that won't take up half the map?"

"Just use those to pin the map up, I've got other's for your geo thingy."

"Geographical profile."  
>"Reid, I've been doing this a long time. I know what it's called."<p>

"Sorry." Reid bites his lip, sensing the start of a very long day. Not wanting to make her any angrier than she already is, Reid quietly stands and begins the task of pinning up the map.

He holds his breath as he stretches his arms. As soon as he applies pressure to the pin, a stabbing pain shoots through his ribcage. He takes a moment to steady his breathing, before pushing in the second pin. When he turns back to his chair, he sees that Garcia has placed a cup of small pins next to the open case file.

Reid eyes the pins warily. Before he can reach for the cup, Garcia turns and sets a pile of markers and colorful pens on top of the file, stopping Reid from grabbing the pushpins.

"I may be upset, but I still love you," she takes away the cup, and pushes the markers towards him. "Use the markers, the powers that be aren't actually expecting to get that map back, and you look like you might pass out if you have to push another tack in."

He smiles and graciously takes the markers, leaving the bright, bobble-headed pens lying on the desk. "You know, I expected Morgan to be angry, not you." Reid watches as she tilts her head, a knowing smile slowly spreading across her face, "Reid, I am tickled pink, over the moon and beyond the rainbow happy for you two. I'm _upset_, not mad, because you thought you couldn't tell me."

"Garcia, we didn't really know _how_ to tell anyone. The only reason the other's knew before you is because JJ asked, Morgan showed up at my apartment early in the morning, and Rossi…, well Rossi's Rossi."

Garcia listens to what he says, feeling annoyed that she hadn't figured it out sooner. "I knew. I _knew_something was up. I knew she liked you, well obviously she likes you, that's evident by the fact that she's sleeping with you…"

"Garcia!" Reid spurts out, turning a bright shade of pink, almost matching the large pushpin securing one corner of the map.

"What? She is. I'm just saying, I knew. Kind of."

Reid smiles, knowing its her pride that's hurt more at not figuring it out more than her feelings at not being told. "Your spidey-sense was tingling," he jokes, remembering that, out of boredom, she had once compiled a list of superpowers she wished she possessed.

Garcia turns in her chair, one elbow propped on her desk, pen twirling between her fingers. "Well, Doctor, since when was I bitten by a radio active spider?"

"I just assumed about half way between the time you learned to master the Force and received your acceptance letter from Hogwarts."

Garcia adopts a mock look of shock, her hand pressed against her heart. "Whoa, is that a sense of humor I'm hearing? Seems like our fair Emily's been a good influence on you."

Reid just smiles in response, opening a red marker and turning to face the map. Garcia resumes her typing, her mood considerably lighter than it had been a few minutes earlier.

When JJ and Morgan walked into her office earlier that morning and told her that Emily and Reid had been seeing each other for over three months, she had been overjoyed. When she had first suspected that Emily had feelings for Reid, all she could think of was what the two of them would be like as a couple. Secretly she had been plotting ways in which to get her two friends together without threatening her friendship with both.

So hearing that they were in fact a happy couple had immediately prompted a squeal of excitement, quickly followed by the need to find and hug both friends. But as the minutes passed by and the news set in, she had begun to think about everything that she had witnessed within the last few weeks.

Emily and Reid had always been close, but since Emily's return, she had acknowledged any and all forms of affection as nothing more than the two trying to repair their fractured friendship. After hearing Emily admit to having feelings for Reid, Garcia had immediately begun viewing all interactions with a keen eye—distinguishing what was normal for friends and what was evidence of Emily's hidden feelings.

Now, she looks back and wants to shoot herself in the foot. Despite Morgan telling her not to feel upset because he hadn't realized it either, she can't help feeling glum. No, she isn't a profiler, but detecting hidden crushes and secret relationships is something she has prided herself on since middle school.

She had been quick to pick up on Hotch's change in behavior the moment he had met Beth, constantly questioning Rossi on any insider information. She can't be mad at them though. She has her secrets and she understands the instinctual need to keep personal information secret. But this is just too big to keep from everyone.

She smiles again, thinking of all the possibilities. Double dating. She has to get Kevin in on that ASAP. JJ and Will, too. This is good. This is great. Emily and Reid are together and happy. She already wishes the team could return, giving her the opportunity to play twenty or more questions with Emily, a little game of 'fifty things you never knew about your favorite resident genius'.

She turns in her seat, careful not to catch his attention. She watches as he looks at the map, his smart pout fully in place, red marker held awkwardly between the tips of his fingers. While she had always joked with him about his potential sex appeal, mostly just to see him blush, she had never actually imagined Reid in any role other than shy genius.

She knows Emily, she knows that she's a woman that isn't about to sit back and settle for mediocre in _any_ aspect of her life. Garcia turns her attention back to her screens, fully aware that she's now blushing. The moment that jet lands, her and Emily are going to have a nice, long talk.

Several minutes pass in silence. Eventually, Reid finishes marking the points on the map, cross-sectioning any overlapping areas, highlighting possible comfort zones. He sits back in his chair, resisting the urge to prop his feet on the desk. He sits and he waits, knowing there isn't anything he can do until he's given more information.

Garcia finishes compiling a list of everything the victims had in common, and quickly emails the list to the rest of the team before clicking print, producing a small stack of papers for Reid to sort through.

Before she can call the team, telling them what she's found, her phone begins ringing. Reid listens as she speaks in a professional, very un-Penelope-like manner, indicating someone other than a team member is on the other end.

Seconds after she hangs up the phone, the fax machine begins to buzz. Reid watches as she snatches the newly printed paper and quickly begins to scan it. "What happened?" he asks as she takes the paper out of the scanner and hands it to him.

"They found another body," she answers as she sits back in her chair and connects to the team. Reid listens as Garcia tells the team about the discovery of Monica Patterson's body. He glances at the paper in his hand before grabbing a marker, adding the new points to the map.

He keeps his eyes on the map, not bothering to look at the screen. He can hear everything that's being said and knows that the team can see him, in case there's anything they need to ask him. Still reading over the new information in front of him, Morgan says without looking up, "Thanks, Baby Girl."

"Anytime. Call if you need me, otherwise I'll be helping Emily's little boy-toy with the geographical profile." Before she leans forward to end the video feed, the team gets a chance to see Reid turn and look exasperatedly towards Garcia, his face burning a deep crimson.

Garcia swings her chair around, her smile rivaling that of the Cheshire cat. "What? You can't seriously be telling me you were expecting anything less." She sits, waiting to see his reaction.

He swallows thickly, desperately trying to push down the overwhelming desire to hide. "Did you have to say that in front of Hotch and Morgan?"

"Oh, sweetie. The game's changed now that we know our Junior G-man is all grown up."

Reid forces himself to be quiet, not wanting to elicit any more comments concerning his sex life. He thinks back to what he was doing before Garcia distracted him. Pushing marker to map, he tries not to think about the potential nicknames Garcia has stored in her arsenal.

* * *

><p>It's after ten before Reid walks into his empty apartment. He had spent most of the day helping Garcia examine every aspect of the victims' lives, searching through every official and unofficial event, club, or class offered by the University they attended, and finding nothing in common.<p>

He walks into the kitchen, turning the light on before he opens the fridge. He's too tired to cook and he doesn't feel like waiting on take-out. He listens to the hum of the fridge and the muffled sound of a neighbor's TV. Other than that, the apartment is quiet. He quickly grabs a jar of grape jelly and closes the fridge.

As he begins assembling a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he thinks about the fact that Emily is hours away, most likely pacing her hotel room, reciting the facts of the case. Leaning against the counter, he eats his sandwich, trying to decide if he wants to go to sleep.

He's tired, but he doesn't feel like he could lie down and sleep. He looks towards his messenger bag lying on the counter and considers looking over the case again. He knows it by heart, if asked, he can repeat every word within that file.

He stuffs the last bite into his mouth before pouring a glass of milk. He drains the glass in two gulps, letting the coolness of the milk wash away the thickness of the peanut butter. When he finishes rinsing out his glass, he grabs his bag and makes his way towards his couch, preparing himself for a night of crime scene photos and coroner's reports.

Vermont is 454 miles away, 730 kilometers. He closes his eyes, as he does the math. 28,765,440 inches. He looks at the clock, 3:19. He hates being left behind, not knowing what's happening as it happens. Last time hadn't been that bad. Truthfully, he had been in too much pain to be too upset at being forced to stay. Not to mention the crutches had been difficult.

This time he isn't in as much pain. Looking up from the papers currently overtaking his coffee table, he listens to the quiet echoing through the apartment, his neighbors having long ago gone to sleep. He wonders if Emily's awake. He could call her, talk over the case, ask if Morgan gave her as much hell as Garcia gave him. He looks at the clock again, 3:20.

He grabs his phone and looks at the screen. Two new text messages. One from Garcia and one from Emily. He quickly clicks on Emily's message first, wondering how he hadn't noticed when he had received the texts. _Tried calling. Wanted to say goodnight. Talk to you tomorrow, love you._ He looks at the time the message was sent and frowns. She had sent it over three hours ago.

Reading over Garcia's message, his frown only deepens. _Think u can come in early 2moro? I might need help w/ student docs._ That message had been sent before he had left the building.

He closes the phone's inbox and is immediately met with a bright blue screen, white letters reading "five missed calls." Two from Emily, three from Garcia. He quickly goes to settings and switches the phone from silent to normal, still unsure of how it was switched in the first place.

He pushes all of the papers back into the folders, slipping them into his bag. Grabbing his phone once again, he sends both Garcia and Emily a text, letting them both know he was sorry, and that his phone was on silent.

He sets his alarm and looks at the clock once more, 3:26. Finally lying in bed, he knows morning will get there much too soon.

**A/N: Not really much to say. Happy my house is still standing. The thing Hotch is talking about with Sergio was from the beginning chit chat he had with Emily during the 150th episode.  
><strong>

**Thanks again for all the reviews. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. I FINALLY got a job, ergo I had to learn new stuff, get paid, etc. **

She's lying on her side, hand on the alarm clock. It's 6:28, and she's been awake for two minutes. She doesn't know what woke her, but she lays ready, hand prepared to stop the alarm as soon as it sounds. She could go ahead and turn it off, get out of bed, and start her day, but she wants those two extra minutes.

She listens to sounds of the city beginning to move outside her window, the sunlight dimly peeking through the thick blackout curtains. She hears a door open down the hall, someone else turning on water.

6:29.

She feels the comfort of the bed, her bare feet sliding on the clean sheets, her arm tucked beneath the pillow. It's one of the more comfortable hotel beds they've had. It's still nothing compared to the warmth of her bed.

She flexes her fingers, resetting them against the snooze button. She thinks of Reid's bed, and the way she's grown to associate it with comfort. It had taken a while for her to get used to it, for her muscles to memorize the firmness and the feel. Her bed is softer, but after a couple of weeks, she had been able to sleep comfortably in his.

She watches the clock, silently counting the seconds in her head. She knows it's almost time. Count the seconds. How many has it been? Forty-eight? Fifty? She keeps her fingers ready, the muscles in her arm prepared to act.

6:30.

She pushes the snooze button, silencing the alarm before it has a chance to fully cry. The echo of the would-be shrill ring dancing in her ears. She sits up, pulling the alarm clock towards her. She slides the small switch, stopping the alarm from making any further sounds.

She swings her feet over the edge of the bed, the cold air tickling her toes. Stretching her arms, she slowly makes her way to the bathroom

She turns on the faucet, and waits for the water to heat. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she wonders if today will be any different from the two before. Yesterday had been uneventful by normal standards. With the exception of Monica Patterson's death being discovered on Monday, nothing new had been learned in the last two days.

Each of the victims were studying different majors, were in different years, two being seniors, one sophomore, and one a junior. They had nothing in common except for the facts that they attended the same school and were killed by the same unsub.

They have no idea why these victims were targeted, and unless they find out, this case will probably last a long time, after all it's already three days in.

Emily splashes the warm water on her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Looking back in the mirror, she rests her palms on the counter and cocks her hip. Tuesday and Thursday were the first full days she's gone without seeing Reid since the days before they began dating. Yes, she had seen him on the video feed, talked to him on the phone, but it's not the same. She's grown accustomed to him being there, even if it's in the next room.

He's at home in D.C., how far away is that? She pulls out her toothbrush and switches the water to cold. It's about 500 miles away. Reid, her bed, Sergio, her iPod. All of it, 500 miles away. Or is it closer to 400?

Reid would know. She laughs remembering Garcia referring to him as her boy-toy. At the time, she had inwardly groaned, Morgan grinning wide with his tongue stuck between his teeth. Even Hotch had the remnants of a small smile. Everyone had his or her silent laugh, and then it was back to the case, back to learning about Monica Patterson.

She quickly brushes her teeth. She'll never admit it to anyone, but she still thinks of the song her mother had taught her when she was young. Sing it through twice, then spit and rinse. She pulls back her hair, applies her make-up, gets dressed—the usual routine.

Her phone rings, letting her know it's time to go. Taking one last look in the mirror, she grabs her gun and leaves, desperately wanting the case to end.

* * *

><p>Garcia stops her typing, listening as someone walks by her office door. That's the third person to walk by within the last hour. She keeps listening, anxious for something, anything to happen.<p>

She and Reid have been sitting in this office for the last three days. At first, it hadn't been a problem, they had a lot to do in the beginning—now, not so much. Nothing new has been learned, a generic, incomplete profile has been delivered. They are no closer to catching the unsub today than they were on Monday.

Between her and Reid, every single aspect of the victims' lives had been examined. Twitter accounts, Facebook pages, even Daniel Williams' online blog. Everything had been read, searched, and reviewed. There aren't any connections. The only conclusion the team can come to is that the victims are chosen at random.

Garcia looks over to the chair in the corner. Reid has his feet propped on the table along the back wall, the open case file in his lap, his head lying on his shoulder, eyes closed. She watches as several sheets of paper slip from his lap, falling to the floor with an unexpected weight.

Smiling she turns back to her screens. He has read that file through and through. She hasn't said anything to him, mainly because she's still searching through the same files—trying to find a piece of information that they've overlooked, something to tell them who killed these kids.

There isn't anything else she can search, not until they give her something new. She jumps when the rest of the file falls from Reid's lap. She turns to see him looking at the floor accusingly, his eyes tired.

"Have a nice nap?" she asks, as he gathers the papers off the floor.

"What time is it?" He sets the file on the table before rubbing his eyes. He stands, yawning as he looks at the screen in front of Garcia, a tired hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Almost lunch time. Your turn to go get it."

He slowly exhales through his nose, pushing away the last remnants of sleep. He quickly scans over the screen in front of him. Seeing nothing new, he concedes to picking up lunch. "What do you want?"

"Chinese?" she asks looking up and over her shoulder, leaning her head back so she can see his face.

"Low mien?"

She grins wide, poking him in the side with one manicured nail. "You know me so well," she teases, before he turns and walks out of her small office.

He makes his way to the elevators, hands in his pockets as people rush by him, each too caught up in their own business to register anyone else. He doesn't mind, he's not in the mood for conversation.

As he rounds the corner, bringing the elevators into view, he slows his pace, not wanting to share the overcrowded elevator with a crowd of strangers—he'll just get the next one. He recognizes so many faces here, even worked with many of them at one time or another, yet he still feels like he doesn't know any of them.

He knows his team, and they know him. He waits until he hears the elevators begin to move before he pushes the button. He likes being around them, enjoys the way they understand how one another is feeling. They've experienced a lot together. Most people try and empathize, try to tell you that they understand, but more times than not, they don't.

That's not true with his team though. When a case hits too close to home, and gets under his skin, he knows that each member of his team will understand how he feels because the same thing has happened to him or her.

Looking up as two people join him to wait on the elevator, he wonders if any of them have felt like he does right now—Garcia might. He doesn't like being away from the team for so long. While he's had Garcia to keep him company for the last three days, he's still felt alone.

Before Emily, he was used to going home to an empty apartment. The last three days have seemed to drag on—each day lasting hours longer than it should have. His apartment is too quiet. He's used to having someone to talk to when he can't sleep, to someone commenting on what the actors are wearing when he watches TV, to someone singing along to old CDs while folding laundry.

At first, he had assumed that his feeling of unease was due to him having to stay behind—that's what he had told Garcia when she had asked why he seemed so down. But when he had to bring Sergio to his apartment just so he wouldn't be the only one there, he realized he misses Emily.

When the elevator opens, he lets the others enter first. He steps in and makes sure the light indicating the ground floor is lit before standing to the side, keeping plenty of room between him and the other passengers.

As the doors begin to slide closed, he catches a glimpse of the wall furthest from the elevators, dozens of photographs aligned in neat rows. Not too long ago, Emily's picture had been among them. Now, someone else's photo has taken its place.

Reid studies the scuff marks decorating the bottom of the elevator doors, most likely caused by people sticking their feet out in an effort to keep the doors from closing. He thinks about the entire Doyle ordeal. All of it having taken place because of revenge. A woman wanting revenge against those responsible for forcing her into motherhood. A man wanting revenge on those who took his family away.

Revenge. Reid reaches for his phone, quickly pressing lucky number seven.

"Aww Reid, do you miss me already?" Garcia teases when she answers the phone. Reid grins shyly, choosing to ignore her question before asking his.

"While I'm gone, can you get a list of all crimes committed at or near the university within the last five years; all of them, even the minor ones?"

"Reid, do you have any idea how many that will be?"

"Too many, I know, but we've got nothing else to do or anything to go on so it can't hurt. Plus, it'll give you something to do other than Tetris."

"That was one time, I was on my lunch break, and you played it too," she defends, fingers already flying over the keyboard in search of the wanted information.

Reid looks up in time to see that the other passengers have already exited the elevator. He quickly sticks his foot out, adding another scuff mark to the doors. "Thanks Garcia." As he puts the phone back in his pocket, he quickens his pace.

It's a hunch, a crazy theory, but it's something for them to do. And if he's right, it'll bring the team home sooner. It'll bring Emily home sooner.

Three hours later, Reid stands and stretches, his neck sore from bending over the never-ending pile of papers. Entirely way too many crimes had been committed near the university within the last five years. Very few of the reports dealt with violent crimes-a few muggings, but the most were theft or drug related. So far, nothing seemed likely to inspire someone to seek revenge through murder.

It had been a long shot, one of the reasons he hadn't mentioned it to any of the others. Garcia had even thought it a wild goose chase, but chose to help search through the records for something new to do.

They have two stacks of papers—the possible and the not likely. Garcia leans back in her chair and squints her eyes. "So, we're going off the assumption that the victims aren't random?"

"Not officially, no." Reid sits back down. He leans back, imitating Garcia's pose. "It's likely this is just a huge waste of time." He shakes his head and tries to clear his thoughts. He's too tired to go back through the papers resting in front of him. "I'm going to get more coffee." He grabs his empty cup and leaves.

When he returns, Garcia has abandoned the stack of papers. He shuts the door behind him as she continues hurriedly typing. He carefully sets the hot cup of coffee on the back table, far away from any computer before pulling his chair next to Garcia's. "What are you doing?" he asks.

She continues typing, but smiles as she answers him. "You know that whole 'doubting yourself' thing you got going? Don't do that anymore."

"Why?"

"Because you're crazy good, Dr. Reid. Scary, crazy good. Hotch just called, they found another body," she stops typing long enough to turn and look at him. "Does the name Kenneth Guthrie sound familiar?"

Reid tilts his head, thinking back to where he had heard that name. "Drug dealer, arrested for possession and intent to sell." He reads off the charges from memory, having already read over the file now resting in the 'possible' pile.

"The one and only. His body was found an hour ago, ID just made. Turns out he was the missing link," she chimes, happy to see that they finally have something new to go on.

"Missing link?"

"Missing link, he connects all of our victims," she confirms, "Kenneth Guthrie was arrested three years ago after police raided a party at a house two miles off campus. The house was rented by Monica Patterson, victim number four."

She easily navigates through the multiple search windows on her screen, compiling a master list of all the information she's recently uncovered. "Victim number two, Daniel Williams was Guthrie's cousin. Apparently the two were inseparable, wherever one was, the other was close behind."

Reid watches as her enthusiasm causes her to type faster, the sound of the keys overtaking the room. "Kyle Newman attended classes with Guthrie, and both played on the same ultimate frisbee team."

Reid leans forward, trying to read through everything flying across the screen. "What about the first victim?" he asks, sharing her excitement.

She spins her chair so she's facing him head-on. "Victim number one's best friend committed suicide six months ago."

He raises his eyebrows questioningly, "Who was her best friend?"

"Her best friend was Mary Beth Sparkman, who lost her scholarship after failing a random drug test given the weekend after the now infamous party." Garcia turns back to the screen and continues typing. "Mary Beth was later expelled, which most likely contributed to her committing suicide."

Garcia brings up a photo of a middle-aged man, smiling awkwardly in front of the blue background. "Turns out you were right about that whole revenge thing. Dennis Sparkman was understandably pissed when his daughter committed suicide. He filed a civil suit against Kenneth Guthrie for getting his daughter the drugs, but it was thrown out because there's no proof that she got the drugs from him."

"So his daughter dies and he wants to punish those he feels are responsible."

"I believe you profiler types call that a stressor and motive."

Reid shakes his head slowly, thinking over everything she's just told him. "Everyone was at the party?"

"Allegedly. That party and Mary Beth Sparkman are the only things linking all of the victims directly. That and Dennis Sparkman hasn't been to work in three days." Her smile grows when she sees recognition in Reid's eyes. "They're trying to get a search warrant as we speak."

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Garcia happily shuts down her computers, all too eager to put this case behind her. She flicks the lights off before walking out. The bullpen's almost empty when she enters, one desk light illuminating the otherwise darkened space. She walks towards the man hunched over his desk, hastily writing on the file in front of him. She stops when she hears a quiet, recognizable tune.<p>

"Are you humming?" she asks, cheerfully.

He looks up, shocked to see that he's no longer alone. "No…" he answers quickly, as his face begins to blush with embarrassment at being caught.

"Oh, yes you were!" Her smile widens as she steps closer to his desk. "I think you're happy because a certain dark-haired beauty is returning from afar, ergo the humming. You're happily humming."

Reid smiles despite his embarrassment. Emily is coming home today. The jet should return within the next hour, and she'll be coming to the office to drop off her paperwork. That's why he's still waiting long after everyone else has gone home—or so he thought. Garcia pulls up a chair and sits at the side of his desk. "What were you singing?"

"I wasn't singing."

"Humming, then. What were you humming?"

Reid checks over the file once more before tossing it in the finished pile. "I honestly don't know. I've just heard it before."

Garcia props her elbow on the desk, resting her chin against her hand. "I bet I can guess where you've heard it before."

"I'm sure you can," he says as he opens a drawer and pulls out a deck of cards and a half empty, economy size bag of skittles. She watches as he skillfully shuffles the deck and intentionally avoids looking at her.

She grabs the bag of skittles and splits the candy into two piles—one for him and one for her. "I've heard Emily sing that song maybe a thousand times." She takes her cards, carefully arranging them in her hands. "And you learned it from her," she places two cards face down, "I need two."

Reid hands her two new cards while asking in a slightly confused tone, "If you already knew the song, why did you ask?"

"I wanted to see if you would tell the truth." She sets five skittles in the small space between them as she readies her best poker face. Within three hands, she remembers why she hates playing against Reid. "Hey Reid?"

"Yeah."

"You should totally try and get Emily to play strip poker." She laughs as she takes in the sudden air of discomfort taking over his frame. "I'm serious, Reid. That's an experience you won't regret."

"I, uh…we already kind of tried that. Emily won't play anymore. She says I cheat." He nervously taps a finger on the edge of his cards, before he tosses another skittle into the pot.

Garcia adds the new information to the list of things to discuss with Emily as she looks at him over her glasses. "Do you?" she asks, enjoying the idea of Reid and Emily as a couple more and more.

"I don't have to," he answers simply, as he lays down his cards revealing his three of a kind. He smiles as he rakes in the small pile of skittles, popping a yellow one in his mouth as he does so.

All paperwork can wait until morning. At least, that's what Emily's thinking as she follows the rest of the team into the elevator. She has every intention of leaving everything work related at her desk, driving straight home, and sleeping in the warmth of shared body heat. That's the plan.

Although most of her plans rarely go as they're intended, she'll be damned if anything is going to interrupt this one.

She exits the elevator, the team forming an unintentional line as they walk towards the double glass doors. Opening one, Morgan steps aside, holding it for the others to pass through. However, everyone stops and looks at one another when they hear Reid's voice carry through the now opened door.

"Garcia, you're out of candy."

"Then I'll bet my Betty Boop stapler."

"What am I going to do with a Betty Boop stapler?"

"Um, staple things in style." Morgan physically bites his tongue to keep from laughing out loud at Garcia's logic.

Reid squints his eyes, trying to discern whether or not the woman sitting opposite him is serious. "That's ridiculous," he whines, his voice taking on a higher pitch due to the frustration caused by arguing with one Penelope Garcia.

She rolls her eyes before continuing. "How can you even be winning, you kept eating your skittles throughout the whole game."

"I'm not 'winning', I've already 'won' and it's because I continuously beat you."

Garcia points a finger at him accusingly, "I think everyone's right, you cheat."

"I don't cheat," Reid answers calmly.

"Then why can't you play in Vegas?" she asks, her tone laced with sarcasm, dangerously balanced between friendly and indignant.

"Because the Nevada Gaming Commission is biased," he answers as he places the deck of cards in the top drawer.

"Reid, are you seriously saying that they hate smart people?"

"No, I'm saying that they hate losing." He smiles as he tosses a few more skittles into his mouth.

"Sounds as though they aren't the only ones," Rossi teases as he approaches the desk, alerting Reid and Garcia to the team's presence. "Are you really surprised he won?"

Garcia leans over and steals a few skittles before standing. "No, I'm not surprised. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though."

Emily imitates Garcia's move and reaches for a few skittles, smiling when she catches Reid's attention. "Hey, you."

"Hey," he answers back, mirroring her smile.

True to her plan, Emily turns and deposits all paperwork on her desk, before turning back towards Reid. "Please tell me you're ready to go, because I'm about to leave you here if you're not."

"He smiles as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, "How are you going to leave me here if I have the keys?" She just shakes her head as she grabs another handful of skittles.

Reid stands and picks up his bag, having been ready to leave for a long time. He scoops up the rest of the skittles, frowning when a few fall to the floor.

"Leaving already?" Garcia asks from the stairs, "Remember Em, you've got some 'splainin' to do."

"And I will 'splain everything tomorrow. Tonight, I'm going straight home."

"Food, then home," Reid corrects as he waves goodbye at a brightly grinning Garcia.

Emily climbs into the passenger seat of her car, too tired to fight Reid over driving. "I can't wait to get home. Do you mind if we stay at my place tonight?"

"No, but we still have to stop by my place on the way."

"Okay," she says as she leans her head against the headrest before turning and asking, "Why?"

"Because Sergio's there."

She leans up, trying to remember if she had asked him to bring Sergio over, or if he had mentioned that something had happened to her cat. "Why is Sergio at your place?" she asks when her memory fails to supply an answer.

"I brought him over," he answers nonchalantly as he pulls the car into the drive-thru lane of the nearest fast-food restaurant. "Is that okay?" he asks, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm just wanting to make sure everything was okay."

When he looks at her questioningly, she quickly adds, "You seemed convinced that he hates you, I was just confused as to why you would bring him over."

"It was too quiet." That's all he says before he rolls down the window and takes his turn at ordering food. Emily takes a moment to think about it. It had been too quiet for her as well. The entire time she had been alone in her hotel room, she couldn't help leaving the TV on in order to have some sort of background noise—something to distract her from the fact that Reid wasn't there.

She's brought back from her thoughts as Reid starts to pull the car forward. As he reaches in his back pocket for his wallet, he looks at her and says in a matter-of-fact voice, "The cat _does_ hate me."

"No, he doesn't. I have pictures to prove it."

"Anyone can pose for a picture."

"Not a cat. You're just saying that because you don't like him."

"I don't like the litter box that accompanies him. I have no problem with Sergio."

"Except that he wants to claw your eyes out?"

"Yeah, except that."

**A/N: next update won't be so long, promise. Please review.**


	15. Chapter 15

The entire ordeal had been an unmitigated disaster. The fact that it had been unexpected had only made it worse. Her relationship with her mother has always been stressed, usually because of her mother's preoccupation with her job and Emily's preoccupation with living her life. Despite the fact that Emily has spent almost three decades playing a game of give and take with her mother, she had not been ready to introduce Reid as her boyfriend to the ambassador.

She stares daggers at the washing machine, the little screen near the dial reading 'error' in bright green letters. The irrational part of her mind wants to blame everything that's gone wrong today on the machine, but the sane part of her knows it'd be wrong to pull out her gun and shoot it. As far as Emily's concerned, the washer breaking is the straw that's broken the camel's back.

They had woken late, deciding to sleep in and have an early lunch before spending the rest of the day spring-cleaning. Go eat, come home, clean, finish in time to lie around lazily until it was time for bed—nowhere in the schedule had she planned on running into her mother.

The only saving grace had been when her mother's brunch date had arrived at the café only a few minutes later, gratefully ending the impromptu trial—her mother acting as both judge and jury. Within seven minutes, Emily had been more than willing to participate as executioner.

Seven minutes was all it took for Elizabeth Prentiss to acknowledge her daughter's relationship, 'discreetly' point out the age difference, and compare Reid to Emily's past relationships. Seven minutes was all it took for Elizabeth Prentiss to ruin Emily's day.

Reid had tried to smooth the situation over, but one look from Emily had convinced him to remain quiet. He knows there are certain things Emily doesn't like discussing: her age, her mother, her weight, and certain decisions she had made when she was younger. Her mother had managed to mention three out of the four within moments of approaching their table. The way the ambassador had seemingly disguised insults and expressed her opinions amongst what could have been a pleasant conversation could only be done by a practiced politician—and that she is.

He walks into the small utility room and sets the large plastic tub next to the washing machine. He rolls up his sleeves before he begins removing the sopping wet clothes from the washer. "Did you get in touch with your landlord?" he asks as soapy water drips on the floor despite his best efforts.

"He says he'll have someone check it out on Monday." She continues to stare at the machine, her anger constantly growing. "I cannot believe she did that," she says as she helps Reid carry the heavy tub towards the bathroom.

"Emily, it wasn't _that_ bad. She was just being…"

"A bitch. She was being a bitch."

"I was going to say 'diplomatic'." He sets his end of the plastic tub down before sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

Emily reaches into the mound of wet laundry and pulls out a pair of blue jeans. She starts the task of ringing out the excess water as she says, "Bitch, diplomat. Same difference."

Reid smiles slightly but remains quiet, letting her vent out her anger. He steadily works his way through the clothes in the plastic tub as Emily analyzes everything her mother had said that morning.

"And now the stupid washing machine doesn't work. It's not even two o'clock yet, this much bad shouldn't happen in one day."

"Emily, we've had worse days."

"I know," she drops the shirt she's holding back into the soaking pile, flinching when cold water splashes on her. "Is there any logical reason as to why my mother has to interrogate every decision I make?"

"She loves you and doesn't want to see you doing something you'll regret?" he offers as he untangles the sleeves of a sweater.

"I can't believe she brought up Matt." Emily sits down on the toilet seat, carefully studying Reid for any sign as to what he's thinking. She had almost choked when her mother mentioned her late friend—and his problem with drugs. Emily knew her mother probably intended it as a compliment when she had said that Reid was a better choice than Matt, but it had been anything but.

Firstly, her and Matt never actually dated; they were strictly friends. Secondly, Matt's struggle with sobriety was completely different than Reid's. Emily's just grateful that her mother doesn't know about Reid being an addict.

To Emily's great frustration, Reid keeps a calm face, not revealing any emotions. "She seems to like me…minus the whole me being a 'baby'," he tosses the last sock into the now rung out pile of laundry, "She does know I'm thirty, right?"

"I have no idea, she's just saying you're a baby compared to me. I'm not _that _old, and if this were the other way around, with you being older than me, she wouldn't have seen a problem."

Reid stands and straightens out his now soaked pants, "I'm not even going to comment on that, except to say that I don't see a problem with it. In fact, I like the whole 'you being with me' thing."

She smiles and stands, kissing him on the cheek. "I like it, too." She takes the wet clothes and starts walking towards the utility room. As she tosses the clothes into the dryer, she silently prays to anyone listening that it won't break, too.

Several hours later, she finds herself wrapped in a towel standing in front of her dresser. She turns and looks at Reid propped up against the headboard, steadily making his way through a book. As she looks closer, she realizes that it's a different book from the one he had been reading when she first got in the shower.

She turns back to the dresser, shivering as her cold, damp hair moves across her back. She quickly grabs her clothes and begins getting dressed. Wearing the baggiest pair of pajama pants she owns, she climbs into bed, rubbing the towel over her hair. "What are you reading?"

In a slow, distracted drawl, he says, "_The Emotional Brain_ by Joseph LeDoux." She wonders what it's about, but decides she'll just read the dust jacket when he's finished. As she combs out the tangles in her hair, she thinks about how he had handled himself after the encounter with her mother.

In a round about way, the woman had said that Reid was a decent choice for a boyfriend simply because he had, to her knowledge, made better choices than the people Emily had associated with when she was younger.

In Emily's mind, the fact that Reid _is_ an addict would suggest that her mother had basically said that he was a poor choice for her daughter. Sitting on the bed watching him read, Emily can't see any sign that Reid had interpreted her mother's opinionated observations the same way. It doesn't really matter if he's insulted or not, because Emily has more than enough anger over the issue for the both of them.

"You're staring at me." His soft voice catches her off guard.

"Sorry, I was thinking." She stands and walks towards the bathroom, hanging the dampened towel over the towel rack.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks, eyes still moving over the page in front of him.

"Talk about what?"

"The fact that you're still brooding over what your mother said this morning." Emily just stares at him, a small smile spreading across her face. Either he's just a really good profiler or he knows her too well, either way she's impressed, while not really surprised.

"I'm only 'brooding' because I'm concerned about what you're thinking. If you're even thinking about it," she admits, as she settles back beside him. She focuses her eyes on Sergio as he hops on the bed, settling in her lap. She can tell that Reid's watching her now, but she keeps her eyes on Sergio, scratching behind his ears.

"Why exactly are you concerned?"

She looks up, trying to see if he really doesn't know. "Reid, she practically insulted us today, _both_ of us."

He sets his book down, not bothering to save the page. "Emily, I don't think she actually meant to insult you, she probably just meant it as constructive criticism. As for me…well, she doesn't really know me, so anything she said about me, or may have inadvertently implied about me was either unintentional or just wrong."

"Whether she meant it, or not, the fact is she still said it. It seriously doesn't make you angry?"

She watches as he takes his time to think over his answer. "I am a little angry, but you have to realize, I'm used to people forming opinions about me. They've been doing it since I was a child, and more often than not, they've been wrong." He tentatively reaches a hand and pets Sergio, instantly causing the cat to move closer towards him. "How I feel about it isn't going to change anything."

"Sometimes it's not fair how smart you are."

He smiles, "Yeah, but I've done enough stupid things that it balances out. Mainly because when I do stupid stuff, it's really stupid."

She smiles back, taking in everything he's said and all that it means. "Usually I'm good at controlling my emotions, but my mother…she just…"

"Brings out your inner diplomat?"

As she laughs at his joke, she suddenly realizes she doesn't really care what her mother thinks. She loves this man. They know one another, the good and the bad. Anyone who tries to tell her they shouldn't be together can go to Hell for all she's concerned.

"I need to try and channel some of that common sense you've got running around in here," she pushes her finger against his forehead, letting her eyes briefly glance at the pink scar from the car crash. "How do you do it?"

He raises one eyebrow questioningly, "Do what?"

"Just let that kind of stuff roll off your back?"

He smiles a shy smile, and stares steadily at a loose thread at the hem of her pants. "You've heard of the serenity prayer?"

She just nods her head once in understanding. She knows the prayer, they teach it in every support group. She takes one of his hands in hers. Squeezing his hand tight, she says the first line. "God, grant me the strength to change the things I can…"

"'…and accept the things I can't'," he finishes, squeezing her hand back, "That's the part you need to focus on."

She nudges her shoulder against his, before sliding beneath the covers. "I'll work on that."

* * *

><p>She opens her eyes when the unmistakable sound of a fire truck rouses her from her dreamless sleep. She sits up, more alert when she recognizes the smell of smoke. Turning in the bed, she quickly races to the door when she realizes Reid isn't lying beside her.<p>

When she walks into the living room, she finds Reid leaning against the wall, staring out the window. He's fully dressed, cup of coffee in hand.

"What's going on?" she asks, looking out the window to see a small army of first responders.

"Building across the street caught on fire. I've been waiting to see if they're going to evacuate us, but it looks like they got the flames under control." He takes a sip of his coffee as he continues to study the fire.

"How long has it been on fire?" She knows it's been a while, the building looks as though it's about to fall—the parts that aren't currently being eaten alive by fire are burnt black from the heat.

"I noticed it at 5:19, so at least two hours." As she slowly makes her way to the kitchen, Reid calls over his shoulder, "I already called Hotch and told him we'd be late, so you can take your time getting ready."

She stops rummaging through the fridge, turning to look at him. "Why are we going to be late?"

"Because fire trucks are blocking us in. Unless you want to walk all the way to the subway?"

"I'm good with waiting," she answers as she grabs the carton of eggs. Deciding to take advantage of the extra time, she begins assembling an omelet, continuously adding more ingredients.

Reid watches as she mixes the large breakfast. He laughs when she looks at him while beating the eggs, asking him, "Did you want some?"

"You mean that's all for you?" he says, laughing when she blushes.

She starts to pour the mixture into the skillet, adjusting the fire beneath. "I'm hungry, sue me."

Within an hour, Reid's watching the last of the fire trucks and news vans leave the once crowded street. He and Emily had split the large omelet, and were content with spending their morning watching the chaos across the street. From what they had heard, no one had been hurt. Before the omelet was finished cooking, the firefighters had doused the last of the flames, and were busily working to dampen the still smoldering frame of the building.

He glances back towards the open bedroom door before sitting on the couch to wait for Emily to finish getting dressed.

Emily grabs the dark gray blouse from its spot on the bed from where she had tossed it. Make-up on, hair straightened, teeth brushed—all that's left to do is get dressed. She pushes the baggy pajama bottoms off her hips, stepping out of them as they fall to the floor.

She shakes out a pair of black slacks before tossing the empty hanger onto the bed. Adjusting the pants on her hips, she frowns when she fastens the button, they feel a little tighter than she remembers them being.

She slides her thumbs beneath the waistband, trying to stretch a little more room before she sits on the edge of the bed to put her shoes on. She's just finishing zipping up her boot when Reid walks in, sleeves rolled up, tie hanging loose. He looks as though he's just returned from work rather than about to go.

Emily pulls the hem of her pants leg down around her boot, ignoring the belt lying on the bed. As she grabs her bag, she starts to think that it might have been a good idea to walk the five miles to the subway—and maybe eaten a smaller portion of the omelet.

Walking out the door, she smiles when she beats Reid to the keys lying on the side table. As she sits behind the steering wheel, she has to force her smile to stay when the button of her pants starts to push into her stomach. Starting the car's engine, she makes a mental note to cut back on Lynette's cooking.

They walk into the bullpen forty-five minutes later than they normally would have. Morgan, JJ, and Garcia, each sitting at a desk, all rise when the two walk in. "'Bout time buttercups. We've been waiting on you." Emily just smiles as she follows Garcia up the stairs into the conference room, bag still in hand.

Reid takes the seat farthest from the door. Emily deposits her bags on the couch before sitting beside him. While Garcia turns on the screens and begins readying the presentation, Hotch and Rossi join them, each taking a seat on either side of Reid and Prentiss.

"Okay, peeps. Be forewarned, the creeps factor just went to eleven. Early this morning, police uncovered what appears to be the remnants of a cannibal's kitchen."

As soon as Garcia begins the briefing, describing the numerous degrees of torture inflicted upon several people in and around Sacramento, Reid focuses his attention on the facts laid out in front of him. His mind immediately kicks into gear, arranging relevant data into appropriate groups. Definite sexual component. Victims are too varied, probably chosen out of convenience. Has to be strong, probably clever, meticulous in execution.

Slowly the blurred image of the unsub begins to take form in Reid's mind, the possibilities of who it could be producing a vague outline of a man, not yet tangible. Reid forces his imagination to obey, compelling the silhouette to maintain a relativistic human form, void of any characteristics brought forth by a childlike recreation of a demon, a monster.

Once on the jet, Reid thumbs through the glossy photos. He's already read the file, and knows it by heart. The photos though, they're different. He can tell you what the photos look like, almost down to the last detail, but it helps seeing them.

Everyone's quiet, each mentally preparing themselves for the tasks Hotch has already assigned them. The steady whir of the jet is interrupted by the sound of a plastic wrapper crackling. Emily looks up in time to see Reid place an entire peanut-butter cracker in his mouth.

She looks back down at the screen in front of her. The remains of a human kidney lying in the bottom of a stew pot, the edges coated in the dark gel of congealed blood, its hue made more vibrant by the HD resolution of her tablet. Once again, the crackle of a plastic wrapper causes her to look up.

She knows Reid is looking at the same images as her, and yet he still continues to possess the ability to eat. "How can you do that?"

He stops his hand, the cracker halfway to his mouth. "Do what?" he asks, looking up from the file splayed out between his lap and the table.

"Eat. How can you still eat when you're looking at pictures of a kidney that someone took a bite out of?" Emily can feel everyone's attention shift, out of the corners of her eyes she sees their heads turn. When she turns to meet them, to explain her reasons for disturbing the silence, she's surprised to see that they aren't looking at her.

Four pairs of eyes are focused on Reid, the owners each waiting on his answer. JJ looks at the cracker in his hand. She's always noticed that he seems to have a stronger stomach when it comes to certain crime scene photos. Reid's always been able to discuss the details of cannibalistic acts while eating, seemingly unperturbed by the unnerving topic.

Reid looks around the jet, a little uncomfortable with everyone's attention being focused on him. He looks at the cracker in his hand before meeting Emily's eyes. "It's just a cracker."

Emily doesn't say anything, she simply raises her eyebrows, partly in disbelief and partly in frustration at Reid's cluelessness. Seeing that Emily doesn't appear satisfied with his answer, he attempts to explain further. "This doesn't even look like anything remotely similar to that," he gestures to the tablet sitting in front of Emily, the images still visible.

"But you understand why it's kind of gross?" JJ asks, defending Emily's unspoken point.

"I understand that _you_ can't keep the two separate in your own minds," he says as he stuffs the cracker into his mouth, smiling as he does so.

"Unbelievable," is all Morgan says, shaking his head as he continues reading over the file. Emily watches Reid chew the cracker; the scent of peanut butter strong, stronger than it was a few moments ago. She sets her tablet down and closes her eyes, trying to block out the smell and the feeling of nausea it induces. What was it Reid had said about the olfactory senses being the weakest; breathe through the nose or the mouth?

She opens her eyes to find Reid staring at her. "'ou otay?" he asks, trying to speak through the peanut butter.

She nods her head, and tries to give an apologetic smile, "Yeah, that just stinks." Reid looks confused for a moment, prompting her to point to the offending pack of crackers. He holds up the package, examining it as though he's trying to find a reason for why Emily thinks it stinks. Finding none, he looks back towards Emily, stating, "But you love peanut butter."

"I know, but…it just smells bad." Reid doesn't question her anymore, instead he places the remainder of the crackers in his pocket as he runs his tongue along his teeth, tasting peanut butter. With the smell slowly dissipating, Emily refocuses her attention back on the crime scene photos. She normally doesn't get motion sickness. As she slides through the numerous photographs, she chocks it up to the combination of the smelly peanut butter and disgusting images of partly eaten human organs and flesh.

Zooming in on one of the pictures, she can't help thinking that this case is going to be one of the more memorable ones.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah, so I guess it's gonna happen. Hope everyone's okay with that.**

***** Dialogue between my new boss and me:******

**Me: Hey, boss man. I finished all of my work, but I can't leave for four more hours. Do you have something I can do?**

**Boss man: No, just find something to keep you busy.**

**Me: Like what?**

**Boss man: Well, the last woman stayed on Facebook.**

**Me: I don't have a Facebook account.  
><strong>

**Boss man: The internet's a big thing, I'm sure you can find something to do.**

**Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm taking that as permission to do FanFiction at work.**

**Please review...please.  
><strong>


	16. Chapter 16

In scary movies, the lights always flicker, giving an eerie sense to an already terrifying scenario. People always walk slowly, cautiously rounding the corners, ever expectant that the monster will pop out any second.

That is not the case here. The few remaining crime scene technicians hurry to get out of the profilers' way, gathering the remaining evidence, and swiftly exiting into the adjacent room. A man wearing a black windbreaker with the letters SPD printed across the back watches and waits while the two FBI agents take in the enormity of the scene. The bright fluorescent lights never waver, providing a constant illumination to the evidence of what was done.

Rossi looks around the room, hiding his disgust at the large quantity of blood smearing the stainless steel counters. The owner of the house had obviously spent a great deal of time, effort, and money on preparing the kitchen to fit his specific needs. The room resembled something closer to an industrial kitchen one would find in a restaurant as opposed to a single story, two-bedroom home on the outskirts of Sacramento.

The large, two-door freezer has already been emptied, the contents brought to the nearest crime lab, but Rossi and Emily can still see evidence of blood that has dripped to the bottom, turning the thin layer of frost a bright pink.

Emily turns to the man in the windbreaker, sympathizing with the look of overwhelming shock decorating his face. Sometimes it's difficult to remember that everyone else isn't used to dealing with death to the degree her and the team are. Even homicide detectives don't encounter criminals as heinous as a cannibalistic sexual sadist every day—thankfully, neither do the BAU.

"They've been processing everything for the last twelve hours," the detective states, watching as another technician walks past the doorway, "almost everything in this house appears to belong to the victims." This information causes Rossi to take in his surroundings with more interest, wondering why the unsub had chosen to keep what he had.

"Everything? How can you tell?" Rossi asks as he picks up a small pairing knife.

"One of the victims' roommate said they had a couch stolen, same couch was found in the living room, as well as a few other items the roommate hadn't noticed missing," The detective explains, stopping to look at Rossi and Emily, "I'm Detective Sam Thacker, SPD." He holds up both of his hands, displaying the loosely fitting latex gloves as an apology for not shaking their hands.

"I'm Special Agent David Rossi, this is Special Agent Emily Prentiss," Rossi points to himself and then Emily, offering the detective a warm smile despite the grisly circumstances prompting their meeting. "Any idea how many victims we're looking at?"

Detective Thacker shakes his head slowly, glancing towards the open freezer. "Not until DNA comes back, but we know no less than nine. Seems our boy has a thing for kidneys."

Looking around the kitchen, Emily recognizes the scene from the numerous photos she had examined before coming here. She notices the absence of once present cooking utensils, most likely taken in order to process DNA and fingerprints.

Slowly stepping her way into the cluttered living room Emily notices for the first time the mismatched style of the furnishings, the small knickknacks lining the shelves along the wall. It produces a style some would call eclectic, slightly hodgepodge. "Is this the couch you were talking about?"

"Uh,...yeah." Detective Thacker walks into the living room, glancing towards the furniture near the door. "No idea how he managed to get both the vic and the couch out without anyone noticing."

Rossi stands next to Emily, following her line of sight, taking in everything within the room. "So far, only two actual bodies have been found, yes?"

"That's right. Well, mostly. The only intact body we found was Jenna Dabbs, the owner of the couch," Detective Thacker replies, "The second was mostly just bones and skin, all the organs had been removed, still no ID, though."

"How was this place found?" Rossi asks as he picks up a small, plastic bobble head. He turns it over, noting that the sticky adhesive was partly removed as though someone had pulled it from where it had been fastened.

Rossi replaces the bobble head, setting it next to a small, plastic snow globe. Detective Thacker sticks his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he tilts his head, nodding towards the front door. "Power company. They were investigating someone hijacking the neighbor's electricity, stumbled on this when they found the source of the theft."

Detective Thacker, sensing Rossi's next question, quickly adds, "This house was supposed to be abandoned, bank foreclosed on it a few years ago, been empty ever sense."

Emily adjusts her gloves around the cuff of her jacket before she begins looking through the remaining items the technicians have yet to collect. She feels another wave of nausea followed by a brief sense of heat across the back of her neck. She breathes slowly, refusing to get sick at a crime scene, especially one in which the bodies have already been removed.

Rossi takes out his phone, dialing Garcia's number. He smiles at her perky greeting, a stark contrast to what he sees around him. He watches as Detective Thacker is called into another room of the house, leaving him and Emily in the living room.

Emily listens to Rossi asking Garcia about everything involved with hijacking electricity. Turning away from the older profiler, Emily spots what looks like a small toy chest pushed against the side of the couch near the door. Bending at the knees, she places her hands on either side of the chest's lid, carefully pulling it open. She has to pull hard at first, before it flies open, producing a dry, sticky sound.

Inside are clothes, all wrinkled and balled up together. Emily stares at them momentarily before the stench of human filth hits her. All at once, she smells the unmistakable odor of sweat and urine, made worse by the fact that they were stuffed in a small box soaking in the heat of springtime in California.

She's not even aware of how she did it, but one moment she's crouching over the toy chest and the next she's holding on to the back of a police cruiser emptying the contents of her stomach. She stands, pulling off her gloves before wiping her mouth with the back of her hands. She offers Rossi a sheepish smile when he walks to the SUV and gets out his half-empty bottle of water.

Gratefully taking the offered bottle, she tries hard not to make eye contact with any of the local police. _Yep, that's me. Big Bad FBI, getting sick over some smelly clothes_. She looks at Rossi as she places the lid back on the now empty bottle. "Any chance that little episode can stay between you and me?"

"Sure thing, kiddo. As soon as you tell me what that little episode was about."

Emily just shakes her head as she shrugs her shoulders. "I have no idea, but I think that box has got our victims' clothes in it." She unsuccessfully tries to refocus the attention away from her.

Instead, Rossi steps closer, whispering in a fatherly voice. "If you need a minute, that's not a problem Emily."

She feels her face blushing. She doesn't get sick at crime scenes. At least, not anymore. Her entire career, she had become sick at a crime scene only twice: once was her first when she was a week out of the academy, the second had been after finding that she had sent a friend to her death, a bullet hole placed between her eyes. Today makes three, thanks to a chest full of urine soaked clothes most likely worn by terrified victims.

Emily offers Rossi a short smile as she fixes her hair, pulling it to rest on either side of her shoulders. "I think I might be getting sick again, nothing to worry about." He nods, but eyes her a second longer than necessary. After he finishes making his assessment that she's okay, he steps aside, letting her lead the way back towards the house, both pretending the little episode never happened.

* * *

><p>Reid gathers the remaining photos off the table, waiting patiently for Sarah to hand him the last one. They had just spent the last hour looking through photographs taken of the crime scene in order to see if any more of her roommate's belongings had been recovered. Sarah had managed to make it through the majority of the interview calmly, forcing a strong façade to hide the tears that were barely held back.<p>

When Reid had first walked into the room to see Sarah sitting at the table, her hands nervously gripping her phone, he had noticed that her eyes were puffy, a slight outline of red signaling that she had recently been crying. She smiled awkwardly, almost as though she'd forgotten how, and the act now felt unnatural. He had introduced himself as he set down in the chair opposite her, careful not to draw too much attention to the folder in his hands.

The moment he was seated, she had leaned forward, eyes wide. "Are you sure it's Jenna?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. When she saw the sad look on Reid's face, she had shaken her head, immediately turning her phone in her hands. "It might not be, she…it might not be. Look, here. This is her. This is Jenna." She reaches across the table, angling the phone so that Reid can see a picture of two girls; each laughing, oversized sunglasses resting on the tops of their heads, eyes outlined in dark make-up, tongues stained bright red from the frozen drinks in their hands. Jenna and Sarah. Each depressingly different from the woman sitting in front of him and the body in the morgue—but definitely the same two.

Reid had looked at the image on the small screen, wanting more than anything to be able to look up and tell Sarah that her roommate, her best friend wasn't dead. Instead, he took a slow breath and forced his eyes to meet hers. Her eyes were almost pleading, the tears still held back, mostly in denial.

Reid reached a hand into the folder and pulled out a photo of a rust red couch, and placed it on the table. He had almost expected her to cry, for her to break down with the confirmation that the body recovered from the small house of horrors had in fact been Jenna. She didn't, though. Her eyes had widened slightly, before all traces of pleading had vanished, being replaced with palpable defeat.

She had allowed her posture to fall, letting her hands rest on the table, the phone lying loosely in her fingers as Reid explained why they had asked her in again. She had nodded, determined to hold back the tears. She had almost made it, too. She would have had Reid not shown her a photo of a zebra print picture frame, small enough to hold a wallet sized photo.

She hadn't said whether or not the frame had belonged to her friend, but the way the tears had flown freely and the way in which she held the photo of the fame had confirmed that the small, striped frame had once belonged to Jenna Dabbs.

Shutting the door softly behind him, Reid starts making his way to the small area set aside for him and his team in the Sacramento Police Department. He sets the photo he had just taken from Sarah on top of the pile labeled 'J. Dabbs."

Nineteen victims. That's the modified number now posted on the board within the room. However, only four of the victims have been identified. One from the belongings in the house and three from DNA already present in the system. A press conference had asked anyone with a missing loved one in or around the Sacramento area to bring forth a sample of DNA. The entire ordeal was promising to be tedious. Even if they were to catch the unsub within the next hour, the evidence recovered would require months to fully sift through.

Reid leans against the table, rubbing the palms of his hands across his eyes. When he opens them again, he sees Emily coming back from one of her assigned interviews. "Any luck?" she asks, setting the ever growing file on the table. Each of the photos had been printed off, making it easier for them, mainly Reid, to sort into piles matching victim with object.

Reid lazily points a hand in the direction of the largest stack of papers on the table. "A picture frame. He took at least five items of Jenna's." He pulls out a chair and sits, stretching his left leg, mindful of his stiffening knee.

Emily feels the frustration starting to build as she eyes the large amount of evidence collected from the house. "This is crazy. Most of this stuff people wouldn't even notice was missing. I mean, come on. Who can actually list every little knickknack they own?"

"I can," Reid answers. He gives her an impish smile as he tilts his head and squints his eyes, "For the record, I can name everything you own, too."

"I'm aware. But my point is that not everyone is like you. Most people buy something small like a keychain and then forget that they have it. Hell, asking friends and family if anything's missing from the victim's house isn't going to be much help unless it's like a couch or something. People can't name everything their friends' own. Well, people other than you."

Reid just nods his head, staring at the table as he thinks over everything she's just said. The bad news is, unless people turn in samples of DNA, they have no way of identifying possible victims other than through the items found in the house. They also have no way of identifying the unsub.

Emily lets her mind wander over the last two days. Yesterday, when her and Rossi had returned from the unsub's makeshift house, she had still felt queasy. Although she hadn't been sick again, she had felt a continuous sense of nausea, prompting her to question whether or not Reid had felt sick out of concern that the eggs she had used in their shared omelet had been bad. When he had stated that he felt fine, she had rationalized her upset stomach as nothing more than her ulcer acting up due to nerves caused by the run-in with her mother. She was relieved when she had woken up the second day nausea free.

She twists slightly in the chair, letting her weight create a natural momentum to continue the chair's slight rocking. She looks towards Reid, noting the familiar appearance of his 'thinking' face. "What are you thinking about?" she prompts.

He keeps his eyes focused on an unseen target. He has one arm wrapped tightly around his torso, the elbow of his other arm resting on his stomach. He's rubbing his knuckles across his chin, pulling down slightly on his lower lip. "What do you think he's done with the other body parts? Except for two, we only found blood and organs," He turns curious eyes towards her, "Where are the bones?"

Emily shakes her head as her frustration continues growing. Another question they need answered. Aside from the toy chest near the couch, no evidence of DNA had been recovered outside of the kitchen. Technicians had scoured the land surrounding the house, using cadaver dogs and ground penetrating radar in search of bodies. Nothing had been found. The nearest house was located about fifty yards away-a big distance in such a large city, even on the outskirts.

Neighbors can't remember seeing anyone enter or exit the house. No one remembers seeing lights on at night or hearing any strange noises. If it weren't for the evidence found inside, the neighbors would believe that no one had entered that house for over a year.

If the unsub had been this careful about not being seen around the house where he kept his accumulated memorabilia, than odds are that when the police manage to uncover his place of residence, there won't be any evidence of his crimes there either. The key to finding him is in finding how he chooses and disposes of his victims and how he manages to get away with stealing their belongings—three things of which no one is certain. A picture frame or bobble head is understandable, but how does someone not notice a man dragging a couch down a flight of stairs?

Emily doesn't have time to ponder the question as Hotch and Rossi walk towards them, each sporting the same tired expression. She offers them both a short smile as they add two pictures to a growing pile. No one says anything as Rossi takes a seat next to Emily, both watching as Hotch rubs a hand across his brow before pinching the bridge of his nose. Everyone's starting to feel the strain of the case, and they are only their second day in.

Taking a lead from his three teammates, Hotch pulls out a chair and eases his tired body into a pseudo-comfortable position. He knows he still has at least six more people listed to speak to, and that was just the ones on his list. He sets the folder he had been holding on the table as he looks towards Emily. "When's your next interview?"

"Any minute. As soon as they get here, I'll get started." She's not looking forward to the interview, having to ask parents to tell them everything about their deceased daughter. The girl had been seventeen, and her bright, blue cheerleading jacket had been found in the toy chest near the couch. The girl had left school early the day she disappeared, and no one knew why.

Looking down at the file sitting in front of Emily, Rossi clears his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "Are they bringing in their other daughter?" he asks, earning a slow nod from Emily. Rossi nods in return before turning to Hotch. "Why don't I take the parents and Emily question the girl separately?"

Hotch returns Rossi's stare, never breaking eye contact as he thinks it over. It doesn't take long for him to agree. "Teens might keep secrets from their parents, but they might not from their siblings."

Emily isn't certain whether or not this new plan makes her feel any better, even if she agrees that it's a good strategy. Trying to convince a grieving fourteen year old to divulge her sister's secrets isn't something Emily considers to be a perk of the job.

When the family of Abigail Rogers walks into the police station fifteen minutes later, Rossi is the one to greet them, Emily standing quietly behind. She hears Rossi ask the parents permission for Emily to question their younger daughter, shortly followed by them asking why, their tones full of suspicion.

Only years of experience can explain how Rossi manages to ease the parents' fears and convince them to allow Emily to interview their daughter in such a quiet and quick manner. After the parents calm down, he turns and nods at Emily, letting her know its okay. She introduces herself to both the parents and the young girl before turning and leading the way towards a separate interrogation room.

Emily smiles kindly as the girl takes her seat. She's small for her age, and wears an expression that's torn between extreme sadness and unhindered fear. Emily slowly sits down next to her, watching as the girl picks at a loose thread on the band of her watch.

"Ensley, do you want a soda, or some water, or anything?"

The girl shakes her head no, letting her hands fall idly in her lap. "Not been hungry lately," she says, trying to smile but failing to make it meet her eyes. Although her hands have quit moving, she's begun steadily shaking her leg, unable to control her nerves.

"You know that we're here to talk about your sister?" Emily asks, continuing only after Ensley nods. "Do you know why Abigail left school early that day?"

Ensley shakes her head no, and begins toying with the loose string again; never letting her eyes meet Emily's. The girl looks as though she's close to crying, and Emily knows that Ensley's only trying to protect her sister.

"Ensley, look at me." Emily's voice is quiet, her tone soft. When Ensley finally raises her eyes, Emily takes a deep breath. Another set of eyes that say more than they should be able to. "Ensley, you're not going to get Abigail in trouble."

"That's only because she's dead," Ensley snaps, the sadness in her eyes temporarily being replaced with anger before a few tears manage to break free. Emily's a little taken aback by the girl's sudden harshness, but she ignores it.

She lets her nerves settle, making sure she has Ensley's attention before continuing. "If you know where Abigail went that day, if you know why she left school, then you need to tell us, Ensley. It could help us catch the man who did this."

"What good will that do? She's already dead." There isn't any harshness in Ensley's voice this time. Her eyes show only sadness, and Emily catches herself counting her breaths, consciously trying to control her own emotions.

She looks at the girl in front of her, and asks as soft and slow as she can, "Do you want him to get away with it?"

Ensley stares at Emily, her light blue eyes barely moving as they stare into Emily's. Suddenly she starts crying, deep sobs racking her small frame as she leans forward on the table, shaking her head back and forth in an attempt to answer Emily's question.

Emily places her hand on the girl's shoulder, slowly moving it in a small, circular pattern. "Then tell me where Abigail went, Ensley. Why did she leave school early that day?"

Emily waits for the girl to catch her breath, for her to let the painful sobs subside enough for her to be able to speak again. Emily removes her hand from the girl's shoulder as Ensley sits up, not bothering to wipe away the tears. "She was supposed to go to the doctor."

As soon as Ensley finishes the sentence, the heavy sobs return, a side effect of her sense of betrayal towards her sister. Emily grabs her shoulder again, resuming the calming circular motions. "Take deep breaths, Ensley. That's it." Slowly, Ensley manages to stop crying, her body shaking as she takes sudden gulps of air.

Emily offers another smile, letting Ensley know that she's doing good. "Why was Abigail going to the doctor?"

Even though her voice is calm, tears still flow down Ensley's face. She sniffs as she runs the back of her hand against her nose, trying to regain some of her composure. "She thought she was pregnant. Abbie had taken like three of those test things. I promised not to tell anyone until she knew for sure."

Emily leans back, understanding why the two sisters had been so secretive. "Do you know which doctor she was supposed to go to?"

Ensley sniffs again, shaking her head no. "She didn't tell me, and I didn't think to ask." Suddenly, she jerks her head up, eyes growing wide. "Are you going to tell my mom and dad? I know she can't get in trouble, but they'll still be _so _mad."

"I don't see any reason why we have to, _but_…" she stresses the word, making sure Ensley understands that Emily can't make any promises, "if it turns out that it had something to do with what happened, they may find out anyway."

As Ensley starts to cry again, Emily tries explaining that there is no need for her to worry. Her parents won't think any differently of Abigail if they learn the truth, and she shouldn't stress herself out about it. Ensley nods, telling Emily that she understands, but Emily can tell that Ensley doesn't believe her.

With nothing else to say, she brings Ensley to the small break room to wait until her parents finish speaking with Rossi. As soon as she's out of earshot, she immediately calls Garcia, asking if she can find out whether or not Abigail Rogers ever made it to the doctor.

As she retakes her seat at the small table near the evidence board, she silently prays that Garcia will find something that will help them learn how the unsub has managed to get away with killing nineteen people.

* * *

><p>Some how, they had managed to find a hotel with enough adjoining rooms near one another, that the entire team could be on one floor, each with a room connecting with another member of the team's.<p>

JJ and Emily are both lying on JJ's bed, the connecting door adjoining their rooms opened wide. It's late, and yet she knows she won't be able to sleep. That's why she's currently propped up against oversized, down-feather pillows examining witness statements with her teammate.

JJ had opened the door to Emily's room almost two hours earlier, asking Emily if she'd like company. Emily had gratefully grabbed her share of the file and followed JJ to her room. At first, the two women had made an attempt at conversation, but the more they read into the file, the less they felt like talking. They settled for offering one another silent support, a way to force through the thoughts clouding their minds.

Emily reads over the transcript of Rossi's interview with Abigail and Ensley's parents. They have no idea that their daughter had thought she was pregnant. From reading the transcript, Emily realizes that they weren't even aware that Abigail had a boyfriend.

According to Garcia, Abigail Rogers had never made it to a doctor, but Garcia hadn't been able to rule out anonymous clinics. Either way, without Abigail's body, there's no way to determine whether or not she was actually pregnant.

Not officially anyway. Emily kind of already knows that the girl had been. Three positive tests aren't likely to be wrong. As she continues to leaf through the pages in front of her, she doesn't bother trying to focus on what she's reading. Instead, she thinks about how scared Abigail had to have been.

She was seventeen years old, and pregnant. Emily thinks about how terrified she had been all those years ago, a fifteen year old several weeks pregnant. If it weren't for Matt, she probably wouldn't have made it through okay. Telling her mother had never been an option. The embarrassment of having a teenaged daughter who was pregnant was not something the ambassador would have tolerated. Back then, it wasn't acceptable.

She lets the folder rest on her lap, but she continues to turn the pages. She remembers when she had first thought she might have been pregnant. She had been late, barely a week, but it was enough to get her mind spinning. She had waited, almost a week passing with her in constant denial. It wasn't until she had to run out of one of her classes to keep from throwing up on her desk that she was brave enough to take a pregnancy test.

She had been terrified to even buy the test, let alone actually take it. And like Abigail Rogers, Emily hadn't believed the first few either when a small, pink plus sign had shown.

Emily's taken out of her reverie when JJ drops the folder she's holding on the bed with a loud plop. She stretches before climbing out of the bed and turning to Emily. "I'm about to raid the vending machine again. Want anything?"

Emily just shakes her head as the familiar feeling of nausea rears its head. She manages to push it down, but as JJ walks out of the room, Emily's mind slowly starts to pull at dangerous strings.

She focuses on the feeling in her stomach, what she had been assuming was a reaction to stress and the level of disgust associated with a gourmet cannibal. Again, she thinks back to when she was fifteen. The same familiar sense of fear starts to make its way back into her bones.

Emily doesn't get sick at crime scenes, she just doesn't. But the alternative is something she's scared to consider. The fear is now borderline panic, and it quickly overpowers her hold on the nausea. She quickly makes her way to the bathroom in her room. She almost makes it to the toilet, but she's forced to lean over the side of the tub, emptying the small amount of snack food she had managed to eat earlier onto the smooth surface.

She quickly stands and turns on the shower, rinsing away the evidence before she turns and looks in the mirror. She fixes her hair and adjusts her shirt before making her way back to JJ's room.

JJ returns just as Emily finishes gathering her share of the file off the bed. She turns and gives JJ an apologetic smile, "I'm just gonna go to bed. I can't read through this anymore tonight." JJ just smiles an understanding smile as she offers Emily an un-opened bag of Cheetos.

Emily takes the offered bag, and quietly closes the door between their rooms. She sets the bag and file on the nightstand as she sits cross-legged on the bed. She lets her head rest against her hands as she tries to sort through the sudden panic that's going through her.

For the second time that day, she focuses on her breathing. She thinks back over the last few weeks, slowly adding up everything that could serve as evidence.

Her clothes don't fit anymore, but that could be because of Lynette's cooking. She keeps wanting extra servings of Lynette's cooking, but that's obviously because the woman knows how to cook. The sudden nausea could just be her nerves, stress caused by the job and her mother. The fact that she hasn't had to restock her supply of tampons in her go-bag-maybe that's just stress taking its toll on her body. She's been late before, and it was due to stress then, too.

Only she doesn't know how late she is. She laughs when she realizes that she could call Reid and ask him, he'd know. As she forces her memory to focus on the exact number of days, she feels herself want to cry. She's not a few days late, she's a few weeks late. She'd been so busy with work, so stressed over Reid's car accident that she hadn't even noticed.

She knows that there's a gas station across the street. She could easily sneak down and buy a test, but right now, she's not brave enough. Everything will change. Her work. Her lifestyle. Her relationship with Reid. That's what has her fear spinning into overdrive. Reid. If this turns out to be true, what the hell will he say?

She suddenly remembers the way he is with Henry and Jack, and she knows that he'd be great as a father. But is he ready to be one? Is he willing to be one with her? Part of her knows that she shouldn't be worrying. They've been through too much together for this to have a negative impact on them. But there's always that chance.

As she tries to force the worry out of her mind and psych herself into refocusing on the case, she realizes that a small part of her silently wishes it to be true, for it to be real. But the rest of her is too scared to pay attention to that wish at the moment.

* * *

><p><strong>PLEASE REVIEW. NOT REALLY SURE HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS CHAPTER.<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I know it's taken a while for the update. I really have no excuse, except that I kind of got caught up in writing an NCIS:LA fic. I think I might be in love with Eric Olsen. But all is well. I still love me some Reid, and I'm still dedicated to this story.**

* * *

><p>For three days, the possibility that she may be pregnant has been at the forefront of Emily's mind. For three days, she has unsuccessfully tried to focus all of her attention on the case, attempting to force her mind to temporarily ignore the ever-present evidence that her life is about to change. On the fourth day, she succeeds in forgetting.<p>

Emily stares at the artwork displayed throughout the large studio. Each canvas covered in a myriad of colors, each dark and earthy. From a distance, the paintings are beautiful, the lines and curves seamlessly blending into one another. But as Emily steps closer, she sees the paintings for what they are—macabre displays of a killer's work. His masterpieces.

The paint protrudes from the canvases, thick and grainy with an occasional clump marking a spot where the furnace had failed to completely turn the bone to ash. Boxes of human ashes, once bone and flesh, are collected near the worktable, the table where Brian Adkins prepared his paint.

Twenty minutes earlier, Emily had followed her team and a handful of Sacramento police officers into the large studio overlooking the bay. They had moved from room to room, quickly making their way towards the area housing what they were looking for. Before they pushed through the final doors, Emily had looked for Reid, out of habit, checking to make certain he was okay.

They had burst into the room, guns pointed towards the man sitting at the table who had been steadily adding bits of ash to an ever thickening paint mixture. Brian Adkins just smiled as he raised his hands in the air, taking in the looks of shock and confusion coloring the faces of his arresting officers. As he was being led outside, he had turned towards Reid, asking "Do you like what I've done?"

Reid had simply looked at the man, choosing not to answer as he turned to examine exactly what it was the man had done. Emily saw his posture stiffen as he approached the workbench. After several seconds of staring at the materials spread out in front of him, Reid had cleared his throat and looked towards his teammates, saying in a voice betraying a mixture of disgust and amazement, "I think I know what he was doing with the bodies."

Slowly, everyone had moved towards the table, frowns etched on each face as they prepared themselves for what they were about to see. Emily had quickly looked towards Reid, silently asking for confirmation of what she was seeing. It was Rossi's voice that broke through the temporary silence, acknowledging the disturbing method of disposing of the victims' bodies. "He's cremating them and then mixing the ashes in with paint."

Now Emily stands looking at one of hundreds of canvases, feeling bits of sadness and anger as she studies the grainy texture of the paintings. She hadn't thought that anything could distract her from the possibility that she could be pregnant, but she had been wrong. As she stands feeling the warmth of the setting sun shine through the large open windows illuminating the multitude of colors, she can't think of anything except what the man Brian Adkins has done.

"The furnace is in the back. He'd had it installed as a kiln for the pottery, but it's safe to say that's what he was using to cremate the bodies." Emily turns to see Reid walking towards her, a sad look on his face as he, too, faces the enormity of what had been done. "Have you been in the bedroom yet?"

The quiet way he asks the question lets Emily know it's not something she really wants to see. However, she slowly shakes her head and follows him anyway, knowing she has to, whether she wants to or not.

The room is brightly lit; several floor lamps line the walls as police and profilers stand in a somewhat stunned silence. Every inch of the walls is covered in the thick paint. Reid watches as Emily slowly looks up, recognizing the familiar mural painted on the ceiling. A complete imitation of Michelangelo's masterpiece at the Sistine Chapel meets her eyes. The brush strokes are thicker and the lines aren't as neat, but she can tell that Adkins had spent a great deal of time attempting to perfect his work. She feels a chill as she looks into the eyes of one of the painted cherubs. If it were under different circumstances, Emily would have thought of Brian Adkins as an amazing artist, successful in mastering his potential.

Hotch walks in the room, a small vase in hand. "He's blended the ashes in with the pottery as well." He holds up the vase, showing the skillfully manipulated mixture of clay and human remains creating an otherwise beautiful sculpture. "There are hundreds more in the back."

No one wants to think about the implications. Last count listed nineteen known victims. Even though one body could provide enough ashes to cover more than one canvas or simple vase, the sheer volume of perverse artifacts housed within the studio promises to prove a much larger list of victims.

Looking once more at the scene playing out around her, Emily can't help wondering how the evidence will be dealt with. There aren't any bodies to return to family members, and there's no telling whether or not more than one individual's ashes have been used per painting. The _walls_ themselves are covered with cremated remains. How the hell are the technicians going to collect that evidence?

In less than five hours, the team had gone from studying witness statements to standing in the midst of one of the most uniquely depressing crime scenes any of them have ever seen. An old man's account of watching what he thought was an exterminator push an old couch down the sidewalk on a dolly, a quick search through DMV records looking for registered vans matching the old man's description, and Garcia had uncovered Brian Adkins—a self-employed millionaire slowly working his way through his late parents' fortune, working to stay under the radar.

Emily can almost feel the collective sigh from everyone involved as Brian Adkins and his lawyer walk towards booking; all knowing the man is going to prison. Feeling the adrenaline associated with solving the case leave her body, Emily is suddenly reminded of her prospective future as she walks towards one of the SUVs parked in the back of the crowded parking lot.

She feels the sudden rush of heat against the back of her neck, and the telltale sign of excess saliva letting her know what's about to happen. She quickly steps into the small strip of grass separating the department's parking lot from the busy street, and doesn't resist as her body goes through the motions.

The nausea passes almost as soon as it began, helped by the fact that she had barely had time to eat over the last twenty-four hours. She lets the shaking in her legs pass before she stands turning to see Rossi staring at her with a contemplative stare.

"Don't get that look," Emily says as she wipes the corner of her mouth while stepping past Rossi.

Maintaining the steady stare, Rossi takes on a confident air of innocence. "What look?"

"That one that looks like you know everything that's going on," she explains. She keeps her eyes forward, intentionally looking anywhere but Rossi's direction. She wants that to be the end of the conversation, each continuing to not say the unsaid. But Emily knows better than to expect getting what she wants when it comes to David Rossi. His soft, inquiring voice stops her in her tracks.

"Do you?"

She turns back towards him, already knowing what he's asking. "Do I what?"

"Do you know what's going on?"

"I…no, I don't know, yet." She adds the 'yet', letting him know she understands what he's asking, letting him know she plans to find out. "Now's not really the time," she finishes before walking back towards the SUV, grateful no one else had followed her out.

* * *

><p>Letting his legs stretch across the narrow aisle, Reid tries not to notice the calculated look Rossi gives him as the older profile sits in one of the corner seats of the jet. The look had been quick, and if Reid had waited another second, he would have missed it.<p>

While Rossi's sideways glances are proving easy to ignore, Emily's fervent attempts to avoid him aren't. The last real conversation Reid remembers having with her had been immediately after his interview with Jenna Dabbs' roommate, Sarah.

Over the last few days, she's appeared to be easily agitated, constantly picking at her nails, and successfully avoiding being alone with Reid. At first, he had assumed that she was simply frustrated by the case. Now that they're on their way home and she still seems distracted, he knows something else is bothering her.

She sits next to him, giving the illusion that nothing's changed. However, instead of smiling and initiating a conversation, she keeps her eyes averted while she looks through her bag for an over-worn book.

Reid lets her get settled, waiting until the jet has leveled in the air and everyone has found something to occupy their time before he decides to call her on her behavior.

"Emily?"

"Hmm?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

What he had expected was a quiet, "Talk about what?" or maybe a look of confusion—even a tired sigh followed by "Not really." What he had not been expecting was her snapping her head up and looking at him with slightly alarmed eyes.

"What?" she asks, quickly recovering from a brief moment of shock, but not quick enough to stop Reid from realizing that she's definitely keeping something from him.

"Whatever's got you acting so strange," he tells her, hoping she'll be less stubborn than the Emily he's used to and actually tell him what's bothering her. But Emily wouldn't be Emily if she weren't stubborn.

"I didn't know I was acting strange," she leads, knowingly avoiding the original question. Reid keeps his eyes locked with hers, "You have, so you want to talk about it?"

Emily gives a small shrug before shaking her head, "Nothing's wrong Reid, I was just distracted by the case." She looks back towards her book, but Reid reaches forward and lays his hand across the page. When she looks up to him to ask what he's doing, he gives her a daring stare and asks, "What was the last thing you read before I distracted you?"

"What?" she asks incredulously, trying her best to remember where she had stopped reading.

"Before I said your name, what were you reading?" he asks, keeping his hand in place in order to block her view.

She blinks twice before answering, "They were just leaving the house and were…"

"Emily, that was three pages ago." He moves his hand and leans back in his seat. She looks down at the page and frowns when she realizes he's right. She had been distracted, not even focusing on what she was reading, all her attention being able to focus on the question of the hour—is she pregnant?

"Reid, I'm tired. This case has been exhausting, I'm sorry if I've been ignoring you," she tries to say it gently, hoping he'll believe her. Technically, it's not a lie. The case had been exhausting, and she is sorry she had been avoiding him, she just doesn't want him to know it had been on purpose. She doesn't want him knowing until she knows for certain. There's no need for him to be as stressed as she is, and if she lets herself talk to him, she'll end up telling him.

She can tell he's starting to get angry. Before the entire incident with Doyle, Emily had rarely seen Reid's temper. In fact, the only times she had seen him angry were during his time with Dilaudid, when he was dealing with his father, or when a doctor had used electroshock therapy on his own daughter in order to hide sexual abuse. However, since her return to the team, Emily's come to realize that Reid's temper has grown and he's less hesitant to show it—especially when it comes to lying.

"The case is over, Emily, yet you're still distracted." His eyes are hard, but she can still see a trace of concern fighting to break through. When she doesn't say anything in response, he shakes his head and looks out the window, offering a short and angry, "fine" before letting the conversation end.

She fights the urge to grab his hand. She feels her eyes begin to burn, and quickly blinks away the oncoming tears. She just has to hold it together until she gets home. She'll stop and buy a test on the way home, and she'll find out tonight. Then she can tell him.

Before she resumes her distracted reading, she looks towards Rossi and he offers her a small, supportive smile. The rest of the flight is quiet, neither her nor Reid speaking to one another. If anyone else notices the tension between the couple, they expertly pretend as though they don't.

* * *

><p>When they walk into the bullpen, Reid quietly sits at his desk, letting his mind run through possible reasons as to why Emily's been distancing herself. He doesn't have enough experience with serious relationships to be able to form any significant answers. He's almost positive whatever has her upset has something to do with him, and the fact that she hasn't told him has him upset.<p>

Emily isn't the type of person to allow someone to continuously upset her. She's strong and independent, and quick to point out if you've wronged her. She's the type of person who constantly tries to fix things, talking things out, finding the root of the problem.

Reid keeps telling himself that if he had done something that would upset her enough to want to end the relationship, she would have told him instead of drawing it out.

She still hasn't said anything to him since they've landed, but he's counted two times that he's seen her turn towards his desk and act as though she's about to say something. Each time, she just inhales and turns back to her report, changing her mind halfway through.

Neither wants to bring up the topic of going home. Neither wants to be the first to break the uncomfortable silence—him because the more he thinks about it, the more nervous he becomes that she's about to tell him something he doesn't want to hear, and her because she's afraid of what he'll say to the possibility of parenthood. He's never been able to give her an answer concerning his feelings on the subject, even when joking, let alone when actually faced with the possibility.

Twice now, she's had to stop herself from turning to him and saying, "Reid, I might be pregnant." She wants to know what he's going to say when she finally does tell him, because whether the test comes back positive or negative, she's going to tell him why she's been acting the way she has. She doesn't like the tenseness between them right now. She can only imagine what he must be thinking, she'd be worried, too if it were obvious he were keeping something from her. After all, with the exception of them not telling anyone about their relationship, anytime either of them have tried to keep a secret, the end result had always been bad—namely, a drug addiction and a faked death.

She's about to turn to face him for the third time when Morgan walks towards them, his jacket tossed over his shoulder, and his keys in hand. "I need a drink, or something to put the week behind me. Who's in?"

Emily and Reid each take a tentative look towards one another, both trying and failing to read the other's reaction. When neither makes a move to answer, Morgan gently pushes Reid's shoulder, "Come on, man. One drink isn't gonna kill you."

"You two have fun. I'm gonna sit this one out," Emily says, earning a blank look from Reid. She smiles, silently hoping he'll decide to go, but knowing if he does it's because he's angry.

He leans back in his chair, letting his pen drop on his desk as he raises his eyebrows in defeat. "Alright, let's go," he says as he stands to follow Morgan. Sensing the awkwardness in the room, Morgan points a thumb towards the elevators, as he slowly backs away. "I'll meet you at the car," he says, giving Emily a smile before wishing her goodnight.

Reid grabs his bag, and checks to make sure he has his phone. He takes a step towards the elevators before turning back towards Emily. "Are…are we okay?" he asks, his face framed with concern.

Emily feels her stomach drop, afraid that he had been thinking along those lines. "Yes, we're okay. I promise." He just nods as he turns back towards the door. "I love you," she adds before he has a chance to take a step. He turns back towards her with a familiar shy smile. "I love you, too" he whispers before he leaves.

She waits five minutes before she grabs her things and begins walking towards the parking lot. She keeps moving between impatience and fear with her desire to know the answer. Hearing Reid's doubts about where they stand as a couple has given her the motivation she needs to finally buy a pregnancy test.

She stops at the first convenience store she passes. Walking into the store, she quickly makes her way to the aisle in the back near the restrooms. She looks at the many tests, trying to remember which one had the commercial that advertised the most accuracy. She reaches for a dark, pink box and almost knocks several to the floor when she hears a happy, "Where's Reid?" asked from behind her.

She turns around to see Garcia holding a small carton of organic strawberry ice cream. Garcia takes in the look of surprise and alarm on Emily's face and immediately looks to the shelf Emily had just reached for. The range of emotion that plays out on Garcia's face as recognition sets in is almost comical, and Emily would have laughed had she not been the source of the emotional overload.

Garcia manages to go from curious, to confused, to surprised, to euphoric in a matter of two seconds—if that. Knowing her friend, Emily quickly puts a hand up, trying to push back the squeal that she can almost see about to escape from Garcia.

"Penelope…" she cautions, wishing she had paid attention when she walked into the store.

"Oh, my god. PLEASE tell me that you're buying that for you." Once again, Emily realizes that if it weren't about her, she would actually laugh at Garcia's reaction as she watches the woman literally bounce on her toes.

"Penelope, you _cannot_ tell _anyone_, do you understand? _Please_, I haven't even told Reid, yet."

And that is all the confirmation Garcia needs. She quickly reaches behind Emily and grabs one of the boxes that had almost been knocked over. "Come on. We'll buy it and you can use the restroom here."

Before Emily can say otherwise, Garcia is halfway to the counter, gladly buying both the pregnancy test and the ice cream. Emily just stands behind her, trying not to get angry when the clerk looks at the test before casting a judgmental glance between the two women.

As soon as Garcia accepts her change, she turns towards Emily and attempts to usher her towards the restrooms. "Garcia, wait. I'm not taking the test here."

"Why not? I thought Reid didn't know?"

"He doesn't, not yet. I'm gonna tell him after I take the test. At home, not here."

"Reid's not home?" Garcia asks, looking out the window towards Emily's car, checking to see if he's waiting in the parking lot.

"No, he went out with Morgan," Emily explains, already knowing what's coming next.

"Well, then let's go home and find out." Garcia just grins as she walks out of the store. She sets the bag containing the ice cream and the test in her passenger seat and cranks the car, not giving Emily a chance to object to her involvement. "I'll meet you at your place," she puts the convertible in reverse, "Or are you staying at his place?"

"Mine," Emily answers as she walks towards her own car, not seeing when Garcia's grin widens at the implied consent to her being allowed to be there when Emily takes the test.

* * *

><p>Emily has to admit that Garcia's excitement is contagious. Garcia sits on the edge of Emily's bed as Emily silently paces throughout the room. Garcia had set the timer on her phone, and Emily had set the test on the counter in the bathroom, not wanting it in sight while they waited for the results.<p>

"Okay, just so we're clear here. You're taking this test as a confirmation right? I mean this isn't one of those you're two days late and you're overreacting things right?" Garcia asks, impatiently looking at the time on her phone.

"Try two weeks," Emily adds as she looks over Garcia's shoulder at the time, "And I'm never that late."

Garcia slightly bounces on the bed, as she giggles. Emily gives a nervous laugh. Garcia is the only person she knows over the age of ten that actually giggles. She's also the only person she knows over the age of ten that can get away with it seeming natural.

"Can you imagine? What if it's a girl? A boy would be good, too, but do you have any idea how gorgeous a girl would be?" Garcia asks, not noticing that Emily's stopped pacing. "I mean, his height, and metabolism, your curves, his wavy hair, your dark eyes. Oh, and then his brains, not to say that you're not smart, but I mean he is an actual genius, and then your ability to kick ass and take names. Oh. My. God! Emily, you're gonna have a supermodel, genius, ultra spy for a baby!"

Garcia turns and faces Emily, taking in the slightly shocked look on her face. Before either woman can say anything in response to Garcia's grand realization, Garcia's phone lights up, Justin Bieber's _Boyfriend_ alerting them that the test is ready.

"Justin Bieber? Really?" Emily asks as the nerves in her stomach dance out of control.

Garcia pushes the bathroom door open, forcing herself to wait outside, "Hey, don't judge."

Emily slowly walks towards the counter, looking down at the test without actually picking it up. She reads the little screen, trying to control her breathing but only succeeding in holding her breath. She closes her eyes, opens them again, and rereads the screen.

Finally, she picks up the little stick. Not being able to wait any longer, Garcia steps into the bathroom, and all but grabs the stick from Emily's hand. "Well, yay or nay?"

"Um, yay?" Emily answers.

"Yay?"

"Yay." Emily turns the test towards Garcia, letting her read the results for herself.

As Garcia spins in circles, rapidly punching the air in front of her out of excitement, Emily replays the image Garcia had conjured in her mind. For the first time since realizing that she might be pregnant, she actually thinks about what the baby will be like.

She doesn't think about how they'll have to work around babysitters and daycare, or how it will affect their careers, or what Reid will say when she tells him. She just thinks about the baby. Her little supermodel, genius, ultra spy as Garcia called her. Or him. Boy or Girl? Which does she want?

"Hey, Emily. You okay, sweetie?" Emily looks up at Garcia, wondering why she asked her that.

"I think so, why?"

"Because you're crying," Garcia informs her. Emily reaches up and wipes at her cheek, brushing away several tears she hadn't realized were there.

"I'm going to be a mom. I'm going to have a baby." Emily starts crying again. Not caring that Garcia can see, Emily lets the tears fall as she walks back towards the bed, pregnancy test still in hand.

She feels Garcia sit next to her. As Garcia starts rubbing small circles across her back, Emily slowly gets the crying under control. She looks at the pregnancy test again before turning and grinning at Garcia. "I'm gonna get to be a mom," she says again, realizing that she actually wants this.

Emily laughs again when she sees a look of relief cross Garcia's face. "So this is a happy cry?"

"Yes."

"Oh, thank god. I wouldn't know what to say otherwise," Garcia laughs, as she starts to cry, too. "I can't believe this. You and Reid making babies! And I'm the first to know!"

Emily laughs again as she places a hand on Garcia's arm. "You're the first to get confirmation, but I think Rossi might have an idea."

"Seriously? What, does he have like ESP or something? _How_ does he _do that_?"

"I think he's just _really_ observant," Emily answers, wondering the same thing herself. "He does always seem to know what's going on before everyone does."

"Yeah, he's creepy like that."

"I'm going to tell him you said that."

"Not before you tell Reid the good news."

Suddenly all the nerves and anxiety Emily had felt over the past week rush back with extra force. Now, she has to tell Reid that she's pregnant, that he's going to be a father. At the moment, she can think of plenty of things she'd rather do instead. If it weren't for the fact that she knows this is something she has to do herself, she'd ask Garcia to do it—kind of like how Reid insisted Morgan and JJ tell Hotch and Garcia that her and Reid were dating.

Emily quickly gathers her strength, "I will tell him, but you cannot breathe a word of this to _anyone_ until _after_ I've had a chance to tell him."

"Secret is safe with me, baby momma. I shall not speak a word of the bun in your oven until you've had a chance to tell the baker."

"Penelope, this means you can't text JJ as soon as you leave, or drive to Morgan's, or even call Rossi and yell at him for figuring it out before you. I need to talk to Reid first, okay?"

"Pretending that all of what you just said _doesn't _make me sound like a giant gossip girl who can't be trusted, I promise. Tell the baker man first, then we tell the others."

Emily just shakes her head, feeling overwhelmed by the many emotions and thoughts going through her head. "Baker man?"

"Well, the bun didn't get in the oven by itself, Emily."

"Okay, conversation over." Garcia just laughs as she follows Emily to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Half a tub of organic strawberry ice cream later, Emily climbs into the shower, trying to think of how to tell Reid. Before Garcia had left, she had tried to give Emily ideas, ones in which Emily felt were the result of too many chick flicks and romance novels.<p>

After her shower, she walks into the bedroom only to jump in surprise for the second time that night. Reid is lying on the bed, fast asleep. He had managed to change into a pair of pajama bottoms and t-shirt, leaving a trail of his work clothes between the door and dresser.

Emily frowns as she goes to make sure the front door is locked and the alarm set. She's a little disturbed that she hadn't heard him come in. She knows she had been in the shower a while, taking her time trying to calm her nerves and gain courage to tell her boyfriend that playtime's over, but she still should have heard him come in at some point in time.

Trying to ignore both the fact that she had been unnerved by someone entering her apartment without her noticing and that she feels relieved that she no longer has to tell him tonight, she quickly gathers his clothes up off the floor and tosses them in the hamper.

Lying in bed, she listens to his steady breathing, trying to let the soft sound lull her to sleep. She tries counting his breaths, never succeeding in getting higher than thirty before another thought crosses her mind, sending her into a nosedive of 'what-ifs' and 'maybes'.

She knows she won't be able to sleep tonight. She's too wired with adrenaline and worry. For now, she can only listen to him breathe while she tries and imagines what he'll say.

_Tell him tomorrow. Tonight, just listen to him breath._

* * *

><p><em><em>**PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. IT'D BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED.  
><strong>


	18. Chapter 18

The first thought that passes through his mind when he's awoken by the shrill ringing of an alarm clock is "I hate Derek Morgan." It's the only coherent thought he can form as he waits for the ringing to stop.

After several seconds of steady ringing, he cracks open one eye, immediately squinting against the dull light shining through the curtains. Lifting his head, he realizes that Emily isn't in the bed. The sheets are still warm and the covers are mostly on her side, indicating that she had slept there, but she's no longer in the room. Reid reaches over and slams his hand on the alarm clock, sending the room into a welcomed silenced.

He hides his face in the pillow as a steady rhythm increases its tempo inside his skull. He's vaguely aware that he hears the shower running, but he falls asleep before he can begin to question why she isn't listening to music.

He's still stretched out across the bed when she wakes him, laying diagonally half on his side, half on hers. He feels her gently shake his shoulder, speaking with a softness that tells him she already knows he has a hangover.

He sits up and steadies himself before he stands to go to the bathroom. His shower is quick, but he takes his time getting dressed, willing himself to not be sick. He had only had four drinks, but what they were called, he can't tell you. Morgan had ordered them, encouraging him to drink. Reid regrets agreeing.

He tightens his tie before turning and frowning at his reflection. His hair is still wet and disheveled from where he had haphazardly tried to towel dry it, his shirt is tucked in unevenly, and his tie looks like he tried to tie it with one hand.

He quickly re-tucks his shirt and runs his hands through his hair, at least attempting to look as though he isn't nursing a hangover. When he gets to the tie, he simply pulls it over his head and tosses it towards the bed—he's too tired to worry with it.

He feels embarrassed when he walks out to find Emily waiting on him, his sunglasses in her outstretched hand. Offering a quiet 'thanks', he follows her out to the car, biting his tongue to not ask her why she's so quiet. She still seems distant, but in a different way.

Instead of avoiding his gaze, she keeps glancing towards him, a broad range of emotions clouding her eyes. She doesn't try and hide it either; she steadily alternates between picking at her nails and pulling at a strand of hair.

Reid climbs into the car, laying the passenger seat as far back as it will go before shutting his eyes. When she cranks the car, the radio blares through the speakers, and he's grateful when she hurriedly reaches to turn it off. "How's your head?" she asks, once again keeping her voice quiet.

"It's hurt worse," he answers. Although his head is throbbing, it has hurt worse before, and he's just hoping the small handful of ibuprofen he swallowed before taking a shower will help dull the pain before lunch time. He expects her to say something in return, but instead she keeps her eyes on the road, only looking away to steal a few quick glances at him lying in his seat.

They drive several miles, routinely navigating their way through morning traffic, before he hears her voice again. It had been quiet all morning, but when she says his name now, it sounds more like a whisper.

"Reid?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I'm ready to talk about why I've been acting differently."

Despite the nausea and pain controlling his senses, he slowly adjusts the seat so that he's level with her, giving her his undivided attention. He waits as she taps a sporadic rhythm against the steering wheel, steadily chewing her bottom lip. She keeps quiet, and he can tell that she's beyond nervous, which makes him nervous. "Emily?"

"I'm pregnant."

No statistics. No random facts. No nothing. For the first time he can remember, Spencer Reid's mind is completely blank—almost like a stunned silence. It barely lasts two seconds before everything resumes a quickened pace, each thought screaming for attention. "You're pregnant." His voice is quiet, slightly deeper than he had expected seeing as how nerves usually cause his voice to raise an octave or two. He can only think it has to do with the slightly intensified pain in his head caused by the increase in blood flow from his rapidly beating heart.

"Yep. I, uh… I haven't been to a doctor yet, but I'm late and I took a test," she looks at him again before turning her eyes back to the road, "It was positive."

"Positive." He coughs to clear his throat, knowing he should be doing something other than reiterating everything she's saying. Only, he doesn't know what else to say. He had run through so many scenarios over the last few days, trying to discern what could be bothering her. Not once did pregnancy enter his mind as a possibility.

Now that he's heard it, everything seems to make sense. Everything fits—except why didn't she tell him as soon as she thought she might have been pregnant, instead of waiting? The image of her drumming her fingers, nails picked to the beds, against the steering wheel flashes through his mind. She was scared, because she didn't know how he would respond.

Noticing that she's still casting nervous glances his way, he realizes he still hasn't really responded, at least not in a way that would tell her how he feels.

A baby. He never really considered what it would be like to have a child, mostly because he never thought it would actually happen. He remembers how he had felt when he was asked to be Henry's godfather. Truth be told, he had thought that was the closest he would ever get to parenthood. Holding the newborn, he had felt a rush of emotions. To date, it had been one of the happiest moments of his life.

"So, we're going to have a baby?" he asks, one corner of his mouth rising into a small smile.

He can actually see the tension leave her body as she exhales, laughing as she nods, "Looks like it." She grips the steering wheel once more before relaxing her fingers. "I didn't really know how to tell you. I know it's stupid, but I didn't want you to worry until I knew there was something to worry about."

Reid pushes the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose, still squinting against the ever-brightening morning sun. "Are you worried? I mean…is this good or bad?" he asks, not really capable of reading her reaction.

"I'm worried about what you're thinking, but as far as actually being a parent? No, I'm not worried," for a moment, Reid swears he sees a light blush color her face. "I kind of like the idea of being a mom, even…I've even thought about it before, albeit not in a while." Once again, a small blush creeps up her neck at her confession as she waits for Reid to respond.

"I've never really thought about it, not seriously anyway. The thought always terrified me, at least until Henry. I guess what I'm trying to say is…I am worried-a little terrified, but more in an anticipatory kind of way, you know?"

She frowns a little as she tries to decipher his words. "Pretend I don't."

Seeing the slight look of confusion and hurt on her face, Reid quickly tries to explain. "I'm not worried because I don't want a baby. I'm worried because it's something new, something I don't really have a lot of practice with, and honestly Jack and Henry have taught me it's not really something you can learn through books."

He takes a calming breath as he tries to find the words to sum up exactly what he's feeling. "I like the idea of having a baby, especially with you, it's just…I'm terrified of being a parent simply because—"

"You don't know how to be one?" she tries to finish his thoughts, hoping she's right.

"Exactly. It's not like I've had excellent examples of how to raise a child."

"Reid," she eases the car to a stop as the traffic light changes to red. "I don't think there is such a thing as parent of the year. Anyone who goes into parenthood with the assumption that they're going to be the perfect mom or dad needs serious help." She makes certain she has his attention, wanting to insure that he doesn't misinterpret what she's about to say. "You spent the majority of your childhood taking care of your mom. Despite what you believe, you've more than proven that you're capable of being a good dad."

She waits until he gives her a small, uncertain nod in response. As she begins to drive again, she smiles, saying, "And if that isn't enough, the fact that Henry keeps walking up to JJ and Will with spare change asking them to make it come out of his ear like 'Uncle Spence' proves that kids like you, too."

At that, he laughs before wincing as his headache throbs in response to the act. The remainder of the ride is ridden in a comfortable, yet excited silence. Reid leans his seat back, once again trying to ease his headache while Emily drives, silently screaming in relief.

* * *

><p>As they wait for the elevator to make its way to the sixth floor, Emily and Reid keep their backs pressed against the back wall, each forced there by the large number of people crowded into the small space. "I should probably warn you that Garcia already knows," Emily whispers as the elevator stops at the fifth floor. "She snuck up on me while I was buying the test."<p>

"So in other words, everyone else already knows?" he asks wishing everyone wouldn't speak with such a loud volume this early in the morning. She just pushes her shoulder against his before answering. "She promised that she wouldn't tell anyone until I could tell the bak—until I could tell you."

Reid cuts his eyes towards her, wondering whether or not he wants to know what she was about to say. Before he can ask, she leans towards him again, whispering, "Rossi might have an idea, too. He's kind of like Yoda when it comes to the all-knowing crap." Her tone betrays the small amount of irritation she feels at not being able to keep a secret from the man.

Reid just smiles at her choice of words. He clenches his fists as the elevator jerks to a stop, opening up on their floor. He and Emily push their way to the front, offering a quick 'excuse me' or 'sorry' as they make their way out.

Reid quickly runs his fingers through his hair once more, and pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose before walking through the double glass doors. He wishes he had tried again with the tie, because he knows he looks as bad as he feels—physically at least. Emotionally, he's swinging back and forth between excited and happy to excited and terrified. Almost like waiting in line to ride a roller coaster—you know you want to do it, it just terrifies the hell out of you.

As soon as they walk through the doors, he sees Garcia standing between his and Emily's desks, a small Tupperware container in her hands as she looks expectantly and impatiently towards Emily.

Reid looks towards Emily only to see her smiling as she continues towards her desk. "Cool the jets, PG. I told him." The words are hardly out of Emily's mouth before Garcia lets out a barely muffled scream, one that Reid feels is much too loud, if not unnecessary. The next thing Reid's aware of is Garcia dropping the Tupperware container on his desk before wrapping her arms around him, embracing him in a tight hug that traps his arms against his sides.

"Oh, I am _so_ happy for you!" she says, placing a hand on either side of Reid's head and pulling him down to plant a kiss on either cheek and one on his forehead. She gracefully ignores the way he flinches against the sudden and brusque movements, too excited by the news of the baby to care about his hangover.

"This means we need to have a celebration party, and a baby shower, and a—"

"Penelope! Let's hold off on the planning right now. At least until after we have a chance to tell everyone else."

Garcia looks at Emily, more than a little confused. "You mean we aren't telling them yet?" The intense look of sadness on Garcia's face at the thought of not getting to share the secret is almost enough to make Reid laugh despite the headache.

Emily quickly places a hand on Garcia's shoulder, trying her best to calm her friend's anxiety. "Garcia, I'd like to see a doctor before we tell anyone else, and I'm pretty sure a baby shower comes near the end anyway."

"I never said it had to be today," Garcia defends, understanding Emily's need to wait, "When are you going to the doctor?"

Emily looks quickly to Reid before answering. "I was planning on calling today and making an appointment."

"Emily, they have places where you can just walk in and—"

"Garcia, I'm going to meet with my regular doctor, not go to a free clinic."

"Fine, who is your doctor?" Garcia asks, a dangerous look of determination in her eyes. Reid just looks to Emily, hoping she notices it, too.

"Why?" Emily asks, not seeing any reason why Garcia would need to know.

"I'm going to go make you an appointment. Who's your regular doctor?" When Emily just continues to stare at her with her mouth slightly open, Garcia rolls her eyes as she places her own hand on Emily's shoulder. "Em, we all know I can find out without your help…"

"You wouldn't…"

"Try me," Garcia threatens, no smile on her face to let them know she's only joking.

Reid watches silently as Garcia and Emily stare at one another. It isn't long before Emily shakes her head, surrendering to the inevitable. "Dr. Ashley Pate, she works out of Georgetown."

Garcia grins wide, pulling Emily in for another hug before retrieving the abandoned Tupperware container from Reid's desk. She pries the lid off, revealing a dozen homemade cinnamon buns. "I couldn't sleep last night, I was _so_ excited, and then all that talk about buns and bakers, well, you get the idea."

Emily just laughs at the extreme look of confusion on Reid's face caused by the fact that he has no idea what Garcia just said.

Garcia takes one of the cinnamon buns before handing the container to Reid. "I've got to go make a phone call. I just want you both to know how much I love you and that I'm extremely happy for you." She gives them each another hug before briskly walking in the direction of her office, leaving Reid and Emily standing in the middle of the bullpen with a container of cinnamon buns.

"Twenty bucks says she gets you an appointment today," Reid says as Garcia's brightly dressed figure disappears through the doors.

Emily smiles, knowing that she's never been able to get an appointment with Dr. Pate without having to wait at least a week. "Deal." When she turns to look at Reid, she can't help laughing. Thanks to his hangover, he hadn't shaved that morning, his hair had air dried, causing the natural waves to take hold, his brow is furrowed due to the throbbing in his head, and the absence of a normally ever-present tie only makes him look even more disheveled. All things considering, Emily thinks he looks kind of hot, even sexy. She's laughing because he has three lipstick prints decorating his face, one on each cheek, and one on his forehead—each just as bright as the last.

Reid looks at her over the top of his sunglasses, which he still has yet to remove. "What's so funny?" he asks, looking down at his self in order to see if he can figure it out.

Emily just licks her thumb before pressing it to his forehead in an effort to help remove the bright red lipstick. Reid quickly takes a step back, almost dropping the container of cinnamon buns. "What the hell?"

Emily laughs again, before reaching into her bag for a small mirror. She holds it up for Reid, watching as he blushes a deep crimson while trying to wipe at the stain on his forehead.

"Looks like someone had a rough night," Rossi states as he walks into the bullpen to find Reid holding almost a dozen cinnamon buns while desperately trying to wipe away what looks to be one of three lipstick prints.

Reid removes his sunglasses and tosses them on his desk. "More like a rough morning." He feels uncomfortable, definitely embarrassed.

Rossi eyes the container in Reid's hands, smelling the freshly baked pastries. "Are those cinnamon buns?"

Reid looks down at the container again before offering it to Rossi. "Yeah. Garcia, uh…she made them."

Rossi gladly picks the largest bun, taking a big bite before looking towards Emily. "What was the occasion?"

Emily tilts her head, trying to appear clueless. "Occasion?"

Rossi takes a sip of his coffee in order to wash down the cinnamon bun, "She usually only bakes when something big happens. I was just wondering what prompted this." He gestures towards the container before taking another bite.

"Maybe there doesn't always have to be a reason," Emily answers, imitating the knowing smile slowly growing on Rossi's face.

"Maybe…" he says before reaching for another bun and turning to walk up the stairs towards his office, whistling as he goes.

Emily shakes her head. "Freaking Yoda."

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, Reid knows now. This was a really hard chapter to write simply because I didn't know how I wanted him to react, and then I didn't know how to write it after I decided. I hope everyone's happy with it, I realize not everyone will be (I'm gonna address the whole genetic schizophrenia worries, and any other concerns the two might have and what-not later on).**

**The next chapter will be up, HOPEFULLY within a week, maybe just over. Please take the time to admire the pretty new blue review button. Maybe even test it out...**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Obviously, we are pretending that Emily never left the show. Until this story is complete, I will be in complete denial, please join me. **

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><p>She tosses the small band-aid into the trashcan before turning to walk towards the elevators, absently rubbing the bend of her arm where the adhesive had stuck. Two hours in a crowded doctor's office had succeeded in almost ruining her day.<p>

Less than an hour after Garcia had left her and Reid in the bullpen, Emily had received a text informing her that her appointment with Dr. Pate was scheduled for 11:45. Not only did she loose twenty dollars, but also since Hotch was in a meeting, she had to tell Rossi that she'd be taking an early/extended lunch for an impromptu doctor's appointment. The only good thing about having to tell Rossi instead of Hotch was that Rossi didn't ask questions, mostly because he already knew the answers-or so Emily assumed.

She had told Reid that there was no need for him to go with her, at least not to the first appointment. He had seemed nervous, unsure of what to do, and a little uncomfortable at the thought of not accompanying her. As she sat in the waiting room surrounded by expecting mothers and hyper toddlers, she had begun to regret telling him to stay behind. In reality, she knew that if he had accompanied her, the entire office, not just her team, would have known she was pregnant—why else would your boyfriend go with you to a doctor's appointment? But with each passing second, she had felt more and more like a scared fifteen-year-old girl who wanted nothing more than his familiar company.

The actual waiting hadn't been a problem. What had nearly ruined her day was the brutal reminder that she's no longer twenty-five years old. Dr. Pate had kindly pointed out that do to Emily's age, her appointments would be more frequent than those of a woman in her twenties to early thirties. Hearing about risk for gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, Down syndrome, and countless other terms had done nothing but cause the nervousness permanently housed in Emily's stomach to heighten.

Add that to the numerous needles forced upon her in order to take blood and administer prenatal vitamins, along with the invasive ultrasound for early term pregnancies where the fetus is too small to be seen by external ultrasound, Emily had walked out of the doctor's office feeling, for lack of a better word, violated.

The only saving grace from the appointment had been confirmation of pregnancy in the form of a small, black and white sonogram, currently tucked away safely in an envelope located in the front pocket of her bag. The image was small and distorted, nothing more than a small black dot on a sea of gray.

When Dr. Pate had first turned the screen towards Emily, saying, "And there's your baby," Emily hadn't known what she was looking at. Too much time had passed since she last looked at a sonogram, and even with the improvement in technology since she was fifteen, she still couldn't tell what the doctor was smiling at until she had pointed to the small, black blur.

Walking into the bullpen, she's a little surprised to see that Reid isn't at his desk. It's nearly two, and yet both Rossi and Hotch's offices appear empty. She looks towards the conference room, cringing when she sees several of her team members inside. Her luck would include them getting a case while she was gone. Once she makes it to the top of the stairs, she's able to see that only Reid, Rossi, and Morgan are in the room, each appearing too laid back for anything serious to have come their way.

The moment she walks into the room, Reid looks at her expectantly, silently asking a thousand questions. She smiles brightly, taking the empty seat next to him before reaching for a slice of the pizza from the box in the middle of the table.

"Where's Hotch?" she asks, trying to avoid being asked about her absence. Rossi graciously hands her a paper plate, casually answering, "still in meetings," giving no indication that he's waiting to hear news from her appointment.

Looking around at the blank screens, and lack of files, she asks, "So, no case?"

"Just pizza." Morgan answers as he reaches for a slice of his own.

Emily sets her slice on her plate before slowly reaching into her bag's front pocket. She slides the envelope under the table, setting it on Reid's knee before picking her pizza back up. He sets his fingers on the envelope, waiting a few seconds before slowly opening it and removing the small sonogram.

She's trying not to make it obvious that she's watching his reaction. At first, he had simply cast his eyes downwards, glimpsing at the envelope's contents, but soon after seeing what he was holding, he had allowed his head to drop, openly staring at the sonogram.

She's a little surprised when he runs a thumb over the small, black blur, instantly seeing what she had to have pointed out to her. She's even more surprised by the rush of emotion she feels at the small act.

She looks up in time to see Morgan looking at Reid, his brow furrowed in concern. Before he has a chance to say anything, Garcia walks into the room followed closely by JJ. As JJ sits the many drinks she had been carrying down next to the pizza, she looks towards Reid, immediately adopting a look of concern identical to Morgan's. "Spence, you okay?"

"Hmm?" he asks, looking up for the first time since Emily had passed him the envelope. Garcia looks quickly between Emily and Reid, trying to learn what she had missed. When she notices how worried Morgan appears to be, she looks nervously towards Emily, hoping that nothing bad had happened.

Emily simply offers her a small, reassuring smile, letting her know there's no need to be concerned. Slowly placing her fingers on Reid's knee in order to get his attention, she raises an eyebrow questioningly, silently asking whether or not he wants to tell them.

He seems to understand. Placing his own hand over her fingers, he lightly shrugs his shoulders, quietly saying, "It's up to you." Everyone's attention immediately shifts from Reid to Emily, each wondering exactly _what_ he's leaving up to her.

Realizing that no one's going to allow either of them to leave the room without some form of an explanation, Emily steadies her nerves, taking a deep breath before giving a shy smile. "We, um…I'm pregnant."

Rossi just smiles, giving no sign of surprise, which only confirms that he had suspicions. Garcia bounces with excitement in her seat while JJ and Morgan share a look of complete surprise. Nearly three whole seconds pass before JJ, her mouth still open in silent shock, starts to smile. Morgan, however, continues to stare at the expecting parents in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Reid answers, holding up the small sonogram as proof. Morgan takes the offered piece of paper, examining the small black blur. "I'll be damned," he says, shaking his head and laughing. "Didn't know you had it in you Pretty Boy," he jokes as he claps a hand on Reid's shoulder.

"Yeah, me either," Reid responds, blushing slightly at the unexpected attention. Meanwhile, Garcia happily takes the sonogram from Morgan, holding it so that both her and JJ can see.

"It's so small," Garcia observes as she turns it sideways, hoping to see something that more closely resembles a baby.

"You're what, six weeks?" JJ asks trying to remember how far along she had been when her own sonograms had looked like that.

"Five-ish," Emily answers smiling as Morgan leans back in to look at the picture. She holds up a hand when she sees Reid's head turn towards her, stopping him from saying what he's about to say. The moment Dr. Pate had told her how far along she was, she had known exactly when the baby had been conceived. Admitting that she's just over five weeks along, she knows that Reid now knows as well.

Just over five weeks ago, she had quietly snuck into Reid's hotel room after they had been snowed in after the arson case in Boise. The fact that it had been her that had initiated the entire ordeal hadn't been lost on her, either. She doesn't quite know how she feels knowing that if she hadn't gone to his room that morning, none of this would be happening.

Garcia quickly stands, holding up the sonogram and saying, "I'll be right back," before quickly leaving the room. As JJ stands to give Emily a hug, smiling ear to ear for her friends, Rossi finally speaks up. "So, this is the cinnamon buns?"

"This is the cinnamon buns," Emily confirms, happily hugging her friend back.

"We have cinnamon buns?" Hotch asks, as he walks into the room to find everyone smiling while JJ hugs a shy Reid.

"We did, Morgan finished off the last one about thirty minutes before the pizza got here," JJ tells him as she releases Reid from the hug. Hotch simply stands at the door, looking at each of his team members, trying to figure out exactly what's going on. He's about to ask, when Garcia runs back into the room, happily holding up the sonogram before handing it back to Reid.

Hotch eyes the familiar looking paper, before he turns surprised eyes towards Reid. Taking the bright blush and extreme nervousness decorating his youngest agent's features as a sign that the small piece of paper is indeed a sonogram, he turns dark eyes towards Emily. He matches her smile before reaching for the sonogram, asking "A baby?"

"Apparently," Emily laughs, both relieved and happy that everyone seems to be supportive and generally happy for them. While she had no doubt that anyone would be otherwise, she had still felt some nervousness at having to tell them. However, unlike her relationship with Reid, being pregnant isn't one of those things she'd be able to keep secret for long.

"So how far along are you," Hotch asks as he hands the sonogram back to Reid's outstretched hand.

"Forty—"

"About five weeks," Emily answers, quickly cutting off Reid's exact timeline.

"You know _exactly _how many days, don't you?" Garcia says looking up from the tablet she had brought back with her. Reid simply blushes in response, as everyone laughs and Morgan mutters, "Are you surprised?"

Hotch just laughs as he reaches for a slice of the forgotten pizza, "At least you didn't wait to tell us," he adds, looking pointedly at JJ, who simply smiles and shrugs in return.

"I don't think Penelope was going to let me wait," Emily laughs.

"You knew?" JJ asks, obviously surprised that she hadn't been told sooner.

"_I _bought the pregnancy test," Garcia brags before turning the tablet around to show a scanned image of the sonogram. "And I've already started the baby book."

Everyone looks at the digitized version of the sonogram, the words "Baby Genius" written in bold, white letters across the top. Emily feels Reid shift uncomfortably next to her. She looks up, seeing a serious look on his face as he stares at their little black, blur.

A moment later, the seriousness is gone, replaced by that familiar shy smile she's used to, as everyone once again offers their congratulations.

It isn't until hours later, when they're in the safety of her car that sees the seriousness again. It makes her nervous; almost as though reality is just catching up with him and the happiness he had shown earlier had been a result of shock and being caught off guard.

Though they aren't silent, neither one mentions the baby, at least not until they make it home.

Emily walks straight to Reid's bedroom, setting her bags down on the foot of the bed before turning to take off her gun. Turning around, she had expected Reid to follow her and is surprised to find that she's by herself.

Walking into the living room, she finds Reid sitting on the couch, absently staring at the ceiling. He still has that serious look on his face, and it once again causes her nerves to flare.

"Reid, are you okay?" she asks as she leans against the doorframe separating the kitchen from the living room.

Reid simply turns his head, letting his eyes slowly slide from the ceiling to the door. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" he asks, and Emily can tell that he's generally confused she's asking.

"You just seem…distracted." She knows it's the word he had used to described her behavior over the last week, but she can't bring herself to say 'upset'. To her relief he just smiles before he lifts his head up off the back of the couch, "Do you remember when JJ was pregnant with Henry, and you had asked me if I ever thought about having baby geniuses one day?"

She smiles as she pushes herself off the doorframe, moving to sit beside him. "Yeah, I remember. I also remember that you never answered me."

He gives a short laugh, before leaning his head back against the couch as he reaches for one of her hands. "Earlier today, I had told you that I had never really thought about it, and truthfully I never had, because…"

She watches as the light that had momentarily been in his eyes quickly fades. "Because…?" she prompts, encouraging him to continue.

"My mom was diagnosed with schizophrenia before I was even born," he says, steadily keeping his eyes on the ceiling. "When she found out she was pregnant, she had immediately stopped taking her meds, and didn't start taking them again until I was almost three months old."

"She wanted to protect you," Emily says, squeezing his hand as he slowly shakes his head.

"I know that, but…before she got pregnant, she always took her meds, never missed a dose, _never_. Then I came along and we were lucky if she stayed on them for more than six months at a time." Emily waits as he wipes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before he continues.

"When I was thirteen, she had had a bad day. She was sitting in the bathtub, crying, and all I could do was sit on the floor beside her. She cried, nonstop for over an hour before she'd finally talk to me. It had been about a week since she had taken her medicine, and I had finally gotten her to take it. Usually, it makes her really emotional when a long time passes in between doses, and…"

He takes a steady breath, giving a shaky laugh as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Emily reaches forward and retakes his hand, once again encouraging him to continue.

"We just sat there—her crying, while I tried to talk her into leaving the bathroom. Eventually, she told me that she cried for two days after learning she was pregnant."

They sit in silence, he taking deep, calming breathes, while she tries to think of something to say. She knows why he's telling her this, or at least she has an idea, but she doesn't know how to tell him that it's okay, that everything's going to be okay. Instead, she sits quietly, steadily squeezing his hand as he fights for words as well.

"She told me she never regretted stopping her medicine when she was pregnant, that she never regrets having me, but…I don't know if she even remembers or realizes that she told me."

"Told you what?"

"That she had never wanted kids." His voice is void of emotion as he frowns, keeping his eyes forward as he looks at nothing in particular.

"Reid…" if she didn't know what to say before, she definitely doesn't know what to say now.

"She was sitting in the empty bathtub, fully clothed, crying, and she just said it. She…she told me that when she had first been diagnosed, she had decided right then and there that she didn't want kids, didn't want them to have to deal with her being sick, or…or with them getting sick."

Emily scoots next to him, resting her chin on his shoulder as she rubs small circles on his back. "Reid, you're not sick. You've passed the age most people—"

"I know. It's just…I was seven when I first learned that schizophrenia could be hereditary. My father had a lot of books on it, and I was reading and…" she feels him shake his head before he continues.

"I'm not trying to scare you, or trying to say that I think I'm going to go crazy one day. I'm just saying that when she told me that, I completely understood. I love her, she's my mom, but…I hated sitting there watching her close herself off from everyone, or lashing out when she got angry or confused, or just…I completely understood why she wouldn't have wanted that, and at that moment I agreed with her."

Emily stops her hand from rubbing his back, but keeps her chin resting on his shoulder. She's scared to look up; scared of the turn the conversation has taken. It isn't until he moves back, forcing her to move, that she allows herself to meet his eyes.

"Emily, today when I saw that Garcia had typed out 'baby genius', I had immediately thought of when you had first asked me whether or not I had ever thought about it, and that made me think of being thirteen again." He leans forward, pulling out his wallet and removing the small sonogram. For the first time, Emily realizes he had never given it back to her.

He holds it, once again rubbing a thumb over the small, black blur. "Before you, I had never thought I'd be a father. That day, when you had asked me that, I never, _never_ would have thought that one day I actually would be having a baby, especially with you."

When he turns his eyes back toward her, she can see tears threatening to fall. Suddenly, he leans forward, kissing her softly. She kisses him back, grabbing on to his shirt to hold him in place after he tries to pull away.

He gives in, letting his forehead rest against hers as he runs his fingers along the length of her arms. "I don't regret this Emily," he reassures her. "I'm happy this is happening, I just need you to understand that for almost twenty years, this wasn't a possibility for me. In one day, everything's completely changed."

"I know," she whispers, reaching forward to plant another small kiss.

"This is really happening. You and me. We're having a baby, and…"

"And what?"

"I'm happy," he whispers back as she moves her hands from his shirt to rest on the back of his neck.

"Me too."

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><p><strong>I would <em>really<em> love to know what you thought of this chapter. Please? **


	20. Chapter 20

**I know, I should be shot. A whole month? WTF? I promise, I will do my best not to let that happen again. BUT, for the record, we were being audited at work, and I actually had to, you know, _work_. Needless, to say, I have not abandoned this story, nor do I plan to. However, I do plan to try and finish it before the beginning of season 8. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, I'm having eye surgery on the 26th and that has me a little freaked out, and the doctor said it might be difficult to see for a little while, but if I CAN see to type, be guaranteed that I will. Once again, sorry for the long wait time. **

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><p>He squints his eyes as the light from behind the bathroom door floods the room in an unwanted brightness. It's just after four in the morning, and this is the third time he's awoken to find Emily battling morning sickness.<p>

Over the last week, her nausea has steadily gotten worse, increasing in both frequency and strength. Reid's come to learn that smells seem to be the worst trigger. He's slowly compiling a list of things that are sure to prompt Emily's morning sickness into action.  
>Peanut butter, bacon, the inside of a shoe store, new leather, gun oil, and any form of seafood are scents that they now must avoid.<p>

He watches as her shadow moves within the thin slit of light breaking through the crack beneath the door. He listens as she turns on the water before the sound of her hurriedly brushing her teeth meets his ears.

As the light turns off and the door opens, he quickly closes his eyes, trying to maintain even, steady breaths in order to feign sleep. She hates waking him up, and had spent the first few sleepless nights apologizing after each trip to the bathroom. The first night he had gotten up with her, and despite the knowledge that nausea's a common and natural occurrence during the first few months of pregnancy, Reid hadn't been able to stop the helpless and somewhat guilty feeling he had at hearing her being sick.

Now, nearly five nights later, he's learned to stay in bed, if for nothing more than to try and ease _her_ guilt for keeping him from a restful night. He feels the bed dip as she climbs back into bed, turning the pillow before scooting close to him. She turns and faces him and when she speaks, he smells the mint from her toothpaste.

"I know you're awake," she whispers, traces of amusement and regret thick in her voice.

The corner of his mouth turns in a crooked smile against the pillow. "How do you feel?" he asks, not bothering to pretend he hadn't been faking.

She exhales as she turns on her other side, pressing her back against his chest before answering. "Car sick without the headache."

Reid shifts his weight to better accommodate her body pressing against his as she pulls the covers up to her chin. He lets his arm wrap around her waist, an act that had taken more than a month before he was brave enough to attempt. Now, several months into their relationship, he's grown accustomed to Emily's need for closeness during sleep, and now feels no shyness in holding her close. Her insistence and unrelenting temperament had quickly worked to rid him of his timid nature when it came to cuddling—that and the fact that if he wanted to be covered by the blankets, he had to stay close.

He lifts his chin, tilting his head back on the pillow so her hair won't tickle his nose. "You won't be sick the entire time," he assures her as he feels the familiar and comfortable pull of sleep.

She exhales again, laying her arm across his, "I know. JJ's already told me," she tries unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, "not to mention the many times you've mentioned it." She closes her eyes, smiling as she thinks about the numerous books Reid has read since learning about the baby. Books dealing with pregnancy, parenting, potty training—any book relating to having a child, Reid had managed to find, quickly reading it before sharing with her what he had learned.

Reid looks across the bed, squinting as he tries to read the blurred numbers on the digital alarm clock. Three more hours before they have to wake up. He closes his eyes, hoping they can get some sleep before they need to start getting ready for work.

The next time he wakes, the sun is up. He's jostled from sleep by the sudden and hurried movement of Emily jumping out of bed before running to the bathroom. Reid reaches for his glasses, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before glancing at the alarm clock. Fifteen minutes until the alarm is to go off.

He kicks off the covers, rolling onto her side of the mattress to turn off the alarm before climbing out of bed. He rests his elbows on his knees, rolling his neck as he waits for Emily to leave the bathroom. He fights the urge to lie back down and resetting the alarm for an extra thirty minutes, only he knows if he lies back down it will only be that much harder to wake up later.

Emily walks out of the bathroom several minutes later, looking tired and slightly aggravated as she pulls her hair back into a loose bun. She heads for the kitchen as Reid takes his turn in the bathroom.

She goes through the motions of starting a pot of coffee, savoring the smell of the once familiar drink. At first, hearing of the dangers of caffeine concerning developing vascular systems, potential miscarriages, and various other potentially terrifying scenarios, Emily had actually groaned in frustration. Now, with the effects of her seemingly never-ending morning sickness combining with relentless heartburn, she gladly relinquishes her daily cups of coffee.

Slowly the machine comes to life, heating the water before saturating the coffee grounds. Emily watches as the dark liquid begins to fall, echoing into the pot before filling the bottom. She doesn't notice when Reid walks in, leaning against the doorframe as he studies her.

"You don't have to make it, you know. I can wait until we get to the office." His voice is still gravely, full of sleep, and she jumps in surprise when she hears him speak from behind her.

She gives him a reassuring smile, shaking her head as she answers. "It's not tempting, Reid, I promise. The way my stomach feels right now, I'll be surprised if I ever drink it again." She inhales deeply, once again taking in the strong scent. "I just really like the way it smells."

The truth is she does. The smell is familiar, strong, constant. It reminds her of being a little girl, strolling through the streets of an unfamiliar country, walking by the opened café doors. It reminds her of late nights spent studying for exams that would soon be forgotten, and early mornings where she was forced to rush against a steadily ticking clock. It reminds her of _him._

When she had first met him, she had assumed the scent was due to the ever-present cup of coffee he appeared to always have nearby. However, as the years passed, she's come to associate the smell with him, and not the cup. Shampoo, new books, mint, and coffee—the scent of Reid. Whether or not it's part of her imagination or if he _actually_ does smell like coffee she isn't certain, but she knows she loves it, loves the comfort it brings.

Reid smiles, outwardly grateful that he won't have to give up caffeine alongside her. When he had first mentioned that she might want to cut back on caffeine, she had seemed upset, giving him a look that bordered on angry. In an attempt to be a good boyfriend, and show his support, he had tried to forgo having any coffee as well. That lasted until they made it to work. Then he had tried drinking it only when she wasn't around, a task made near impossible due to the fact that they were always together, never apart long enough to actually enjoy a full cup.

Luckily, she had seen what he was trying to do, and had quickly intervened. She had even laughed, telling him she appreciated the gesture, but didn't want to be responsible for releasing a caffeine deprived Spencer Reid on the FBI. He had smiled in return, filled a large mug full of coffee, and decided not to analyze what she had said in case there was an insult hidden inside.

He reaches for one of the larger cups, idly tapping his long fingers against the side while he waits for the coffee to finish brewing. "Morning sickness is a sign of a healthy pregnancy," he says, noticing the way she frowns as she scrutinizes the contents of her fridge.

"Never thought constantly throwing up would be a sign of being healthy," she says as she settles for a bottle of water and half-eaten package of saltine crackers. She had tried ginger ale, but hated the taste. Now, she sticks with water and crackers, slowly introducing new foods to see whether or not she can keep them down.

Watching as she takes an unenthusiastic bite out of one of the crackers, Reid reaches for the coffee pot, clearing his throat before asking, "No eggs?" They've probably gone through two dozens eggs within the last week. Scrambled eggs seemingly being one of the few foods that Emily could stomach. That and pineapple, the sliced kind in water, no syrup.

She grins between sips of water, "I'm feeling extra _healthy_ this morning," she grins, steadying her breath against impending nausea. Reid tests his coffee, before taking a tentative sip and leaning back against the counter as Emily leaves him so she can get ready for work.

When he walks back into the bedroom, he's surprised to find Emily angrily tossing various pairs of slacks onto the bed. "I'm getting fat," she grits out as she checks the size on the label before tossing the pants on the bed.

"Pregnant, not fat," Reid reminds her, having had the same conversation the previous day when she realized her pants had become even tighter than before. Emily takes the time from digging in her closet to level him with a glare before resuming her search for an older pair of pants.

"Right now, I don't look pregnant," she pulls out an old pair of blue jeans and tries them on, content with the snug fit, " I look like I need to lay off dessert." Reid just rolls his eyes as she starts pulling on her shoes. He had learned quickly not to comment on her growing stomach, which is barely noticeable if you didn't know to look.

Despite the complaints concerning her increasing dilemma with her wardrobe, Reid can tell she isn't really bothered. At least once, he's seen her turning sideways in the mirror, checking to see if her bump is noticeable, smiling at the nearly unperceivable rise near her navel.

Reid quickly dresses, pulling a dark sweater vest over his head before turning to follow Emily out the door as he tries to stifle a yawn.

The next few hours pass by in a slow, drawn out routine. There hadn't been a case since the cannibal in Sacramento, and aside from the occasional consult, the team had spent the quiet week occupying themselves with catching up on paperwork.

Now, nearing lunchtime, Emily tosses a completed file into the slowly growing 'finished' pile and stretches, looking toward a quietly sleeping Reid. He has his elbow propped on the desk, his cheek resting against a loose fist. His other hand holds a pen, its tip poised on the paper as though he had fallen asleep while writing.

Despite the three cups of coffee Reid had managed to consume since arriving at work, he had continuously yawned throughout the morning, attempting to fight off the fatigue he was feeling due to a night full of interrupted sleep. Feeling guilty, Emily had let him sleep, keeping a watchful eye on the offices upstairs should Hotch or Rossi venture into the bullpen.

Glancing around to make sure no one's paying attention, she quietly stands and walks towards his desk. She's about to wake him up, playfully whisper in his ear in order to get his attention, but as she leans in, her eyes land on the paper he had been writing on. Assuming he had fallen asleep working on a file, she had not been expecting to see his thin, messy handwriting scribbled out on thick, cream colored stationary.

She reads the first line, before she quickly straightens and returns to her seat. He had fallen asleep writing to his mother. She knows he writes to her, she's seen him casually drop an envelope in the mail slot at her apartment on more than one morning, or watched as he folded himself in the big chair in his living room with a pen and the same stationary. She's never asked what he writes to her about, never wanted to invade that personal area of his life.

Having read that first line, where he simply greets his mother, setting up to tell her about his day, Emily suddenly wonders what he's told Diana Reid about her—_if_ he's told her anything at all. Blinking away her curiosity, Emily quietly crumples a spare piece of paper and tosses it towards Reid.

The ball hits its mark, bouncing off Reid's jaw line just below his right ear. His eyes pop open, but his body remains in its slack position, pen still poised over the letter as he squints his eyes at the small ball of paper resting near his elbow.

Slowly, he tilts his head on his hand, turning sleepy eyes towards Emily with a lazy, yet accusing grin. "What was that for?" he asks, tossing the paper ball in the trash bin next to his desk before stretching his arms out in front of him.

"Trying to wake you up," she answers as she pops his neck, "It's almost lunch time." She watches as he nods in recognition, slowly looking at the unfinished letter lying on his desk. He takes in a deep breath before exhaling heavily, crumpling the letter and dropping it in the trash bin along with Emily's paper missile.

Trying not to frown, Emily starts to organize the small amount of chaos on her desk as she attempts to casually ask, "What was that?"

Reid looks up and meets her eyes, and for a moment she can tell he's about to say "nothing". However, before the words are out of his mouth, he exhales again, tongue darting out to wet his lips before shaking his head. "It was a letter to my mom," he mutters, nervously scratching his neck. He looks down at his desk, briefly before turning slightly embarrassed eyes towards Emily. "I'm trying to think of the best way to explain…all of this," he gestures to Emily, clearly indicating the baby.

Emily smiles sympathetically, understanding fully the difficulty in telling a parent about an unplanned pregnancy—she's purposefully ignoring the fact that she has yet to tell her own mother. "What if you were to call? You know, tell her over the phone?" she offers, trying to help ease his uncertainty.

Reid slowly shakes his head, biting his lip as he dismisses the idea. "I don't want to catch her at a bad time. With the letters, it's safer. They wouldn't give her any mail if she was having an episode, or..." his voice gradually drops in volume, tapering off as he looks towards Emily, hoping she'd understand without him having to explain further.

Once again donning a sympathetic smile, Emily nods, letting him know she understands. Finding out that your only son is going to be a father is a big deal, and not knowing exactly how Diana Reid will react-short of going to Vegas to tell her in person, writing a letter would probably be the safest way.

Emily stands once again and walks towards Reid's desk, pushing a stapler out of the way so she can sit on the edge. She purses her lips, trying to think of the best way of continuing the conversation. "Do you just have to tell her about the baby, or do you still have to tell her about me, too?"

Either Emily had excellently concealed her discomfort with having to ask, or Reid is oblivious to the awkward hitch in her voice, because he answers calmly. "The baby. She already knows about you." Emily nods, biting the inside of her lip in order to stop herself from asking what Diana thought about her.

Sensing Emily's tension, Reid leans forward in his chair, resting his arms on his desk, one elbow pushing against the side of her thigh, "I waited a while before I told her about you," he confesses, "When I finally told her, she didn't seem too surprised." He lets out a breathy laugh, licking his lips once before looking up towards Emily. "She said she could tell something had changed, that I was happier and she guessed that it had to do with a woman." He smiles imagining the knowing look his mother had always given him when revealing the depth of her knowledge-_a mother knows. _"She's happy about us."

Emily feels the muscles in her shoulders relax with relief. After the nightmare of her own mother learning of their relationship, Emily had found herself grateful that Reid's mother didn't live in the same city, giving her an unexpected escape from experiencing another potentially disastrous encounter. Now, knowing that Diana approves of their relationship, Emily feels the pull of guilt and a general feeling of unease settle in the pit of her stomach caused by her own selfish desire to avoid the disapproval of Reid's mother.

"What if I wrote her?" She blinks, somewhat stunned that she had actually asked it out loud. She hadn't even had time to fully process the train of thought she had currently been entertaining before the words had leaked from her mouth, surprising both her and Reid.

"You'd want to?" he asks, his eyebrows nearly meeting over the bridge of his nose in a contemplative frown. He hadn't told Emily, but each time he had spoken to his mother, she had asked about his new girlfriend, constantly gathering information, openly admitting she wanted to know more about her. He's always known that Emily would be understanding when it came to dealing with his mother. He'd even caught himself thinking of what the two would say to one another, but he never thought Emily would be the one to offer initiating any form of correspondence with his mother.

As he takes in the barely suppressed look of surprise in her wide eyes, he realizes that she hadn't either. He had offered her an out, asking whether or not she'd want to write a letter introducing herself to the future grandmother of her child, fully expecting her to gracefully back out of the unexpected offer. But she manages to completely surprise him twice in a span of ten seconds.

She thinks it over, straightens her posture, and raises her head determinedly. "Yes, I want to," she says, before leaning back towards him, "If that's okay?" Her voice is suddenly unsure, uncomfortable that she may have crossed a line.

Despite still being slightly taken aback, he doesn't even have to consider any other possibility. "Yeah, it's okay," he tells her, trying not to smile like a kid on Christmas morning. He's still unsure about all the emotions swimming in his gut, but he's positively happy that Emily would be willing to write to his mother, openly extending a hand to include her in her life.

She reaches across from him, pulling a piece of the heavy stationary from his bag before smiling and walking back towards his desk. He watches her as she studies the paper, hesitating twice before she finally decides how to begin the letter. Slowly, he pulls out a piece of stationary for himself, and once again begins searching for the words needed to tell his mother about the changes in his life, finding that the words seem to come easier this time around.

Emily and Reid each sit in silence, writing a letter to Diana Reid. With the exception of Emily standing to grab a second piece of stationary, neither moves until JJ comes in nearly half an hour later, asking about lunch.

**I can't really express how excited I get when I read reviews. I know I don't really respond to all of them, and honestly, it's because I don't think about it. I don't know if that's rude or not, but I try and squeeze in the time to check to see if anythings changed and then it's back to volleyball tryouts and baseball practice and dentist appointments. Anyhoo, I just want everyone to know that even if I do not respond to you personally, I'm still greatful that you took the time to read my story and tell me what you thought.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Some stories and chapters just seem to write themselves. This was not one of those chapters. I struggled to find a way to incorporate what Emily wrote in her letter to Diana in with this chapter. When I had first decided to have Emily write the letter, I hadn't planned on telling what it said. However, after SpemilyFan asked if the readers would learn what it said, I felt somewhat compelled to include it-even if it were only in snippets. I hope it all came out okay.**

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><p>Distractions are never good no matter how small, and right now, Emily is definitely distracted. They had returned from a short lunch to find Strauss waiting near Hotch's office, a manicured nail agitatedly tapping on the front of a folder bearing the FBI's insignia. Less than an hour later, Emily's crammed in the back of an SUV, sitting between JJ and Reid on the way to the airstrip.<p>

Despite the fact that they're on their way to Philadelphia to investigate a series of deadly hate crimes, Emily's mind keeps straying to the nearly finished letter stored away in the bag resting at her feet. Other than a brief moment of hesitation where she thought about the best way to begin the letter, she had steadily written, easily finding the words needed to express her feelings.

Now, however, as she climbs out of the SUV, she's beginning to doubt those easily found words. What will Diana think, how will she react to Emily's open statement of love for her son?

All thoughts concerning Diana Reid's reaction are pushed to an available corner of Emily's mind as Hotch begins speaking, stoically relaying the facts hurriedly given to him less than an hour before. Seven victims, four of them dead, multiple unsubs. She takes it all in, trying her best to slip into the role of profiler, but no matter how hard she tries to focus, her mind still strays to the letter, random sentences making themselves known in the forefront of her mind.

…_known one another for several years, and have had the privilege to have grown from colleagues, to friends, to something more…_

She looks up, suddenly aware that Hotch has stopped talking, letting Morgan take the floor as he summarizes the autopsy reports aloud. She has to look down at her own copy of the file in order to catch up. _Internal damage due to blunt force trauma, consistent with previous victims' reports of being shot with a potato gun._

…_an amazing individual, with a good heart. I feel as though I've learned more from him…_

"Emily?" Rossi's deep voice causes her to jerk her head up, pulling her eyes away from the report she hadn't really been reading. Idly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she tries not to panic when she sees that all eyes are resting on her, quietly waiting for an answer to an unheard question.

"Uh…" She's saved from having to admit that she hadn't been paying attention when the laptop resting on the small table pings, displaying a small screen with a frazzled looking Penelope Garcia trying her best to balance several open folders atop two separate file boxes.

"Listen up, I'm just gonna give ya the cliff-notes version, 'kay? 'Cause trust me, friends, there is all kinds of random info all up in here." She casually waves a hand above the folders now spread out amongst the desk in front of her. "First things first, you're looking at potentially _a lot_ more victims, like, as in double digits kinda more. One of these boxes alone is full of reports waiting to be matched with an unsub. Secondly, the latest victim made it through surgery, doc says she should be awake by the time you land."

Looking towards Reid, Emily notices the slight frown decorating his brow, usually a clear indicator that he's trying to take in as much information as possible. Is it still considered profiling if you just _know_ someone so well that you can read them without trying?

…_consider myself extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to raise a family with him…_

"JJ, I want you and Emily to go to the hospital. See if you can talk with Mrs. Flannery." The sound of her name once again pulls her attention back to the conversation currently happening in front of her. She nods, sharing a smile with JJ before diving into the file in order to catch up with the rest of the team.

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><p>Emily tosses her empty water bottle into the wastebasket near the nurses' station as they wait for Mrs. Flannery's surgeon to update them on her condition. Both women stand in silence, feeling the intensity of the nurses working around them, each owning a tense expression as they move from one curtained bed to another, steadily documenting vitals and administering pain medication.<p>

Emily looks up when JJ elbows her arm, gesturing to the man approaching the nurses' desk. He's still in his surgical scrubs, a mask pulled down, half-tied around his neck rests against his chest while a surgical cap barely covers his graying blonde. As he reaches the desk, he hands one of the nurses a metal clipboard, rubbing both hands across his face before accepting a new clipboard offered to him by a separate nurse.

He takes a cursory look around the post-op area, stopping when he registers Emily and JJ standing side by side, each waiting for his attention. "Dr. Reagan?" Emily asks, smiling sympathetically at the man's exhausted stance.

"Yes," he sets the new chart on the counter, "I'm sorry, but family isn't supposed to be in this area."

"No doctor, I'm Special Agent Emily Prentiss, this is Special Agent Jennifer Jareau. We were told we could speak to you about Mrs. Wanda Flannery." Dr. Reagan looks down as they hold up their badges before he tilts his head trying to think.

"Flannery? The assault victim, yes?" At the twin nods from Emily and JJ, Dr. Reagan walks behind the counter and begins sifting through an alarming number of charts until he comes across the one labeled _Flannery, W. E._

"Multiple internal injuries, two bruised kidneys, ruptured spleen—we managed to clean up the damage, but because of her age, we're going to want to watch her very closely." He reads off the chart, remembering the surgery and relaying the information with practiced detachment.

"How old is she, exactly?" JJ asks. Other than a name, they had been given no information on the latest victim, mostly due to the attack having taken place less than five hours before. Emily suddenly realizes that they're most likely the first to speak to Mrs. Flannery about what happened since the attack.

"Seventy-two years old," Dr. Reagan reads, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'll never understand where people find fun in beating up an old lady?" He sets Mrs. Flannery's chart back in its place and gestures for Emily and JJ to follow him to one of the curtained beds closest to the nurses' station.

Pushing the rest of the half-opened curtain aside, Emily follows JJ and Dr. Reagan to stand next to the bed and a nurse adjusting a blood pressure cuff on Mrs. Flannery's bony arm, careful of IVs and bruises. "Mrs. Flannery, I'm Dr. Reagan. Do you remember talking to me earlier?"

The old woman lips her dry lips as she lifts her eyes from the nurse's administrations towards Dr. Reagan. "Yes, I remember. I'm not senile, and you'll do well to remember that."

Emily smiles, reminded of Lynette's sharp humor and blunt way of communicating, but instead of a short African-American woman, Emily's faced with a tall, white woman whose face is decorated and swollen with bruises and cuts. Wanda Flannery is probably close to six feet tall, her toes scraping the foot rail of the bed as she lies down. Her white hair is long, and Emily can tell it falls past her shoulders even as it's fanned out on the hospital pillow. When she speaks again, Emily recognizes the slight trace of an Irish accent.

"You keep telling me you want me to rest, but every time I close my eyes, someone else is in here, asking me how I'm doing." The slight lilt Mrs. Flannery had spoken with did nothing to mask the annoyance she was feeling towards the hospital's staff.

Dr. Reagan lifts his eyes towards JJ and Emily, raising an eyebrow, silently wishing them good luck. "Mrs. Flannery, I understand you're tired, but these agents are with the FBI. They're here to get information about the men who did this to you."

Wanda Flannery turns her attention to the right side of the bed, taking in for the first time the two women standing there. Emily is immediately taken with Mrs. Flannery's eyes, which are a unique shade of green, bordering on yellow. The anger emanating from those yellow-green eyes tells both Emily and JJ that this woman is a force to be reckoned with, seventy-two years old or not.

"FBI, yeah? Well, get on with it. I know you've got questions." Mrs. Flannery adjusts herself in the bed as best she can. Despite her harsh words, she's still in a considerable amount of pain. Dr. Reagan and the nurse leave, pulling the curtain closed on their way out.

JJ steps forward, small notebook in one hand, pen ready for writing in the other. "Mrs. Flannery, can you—"

"Wanda. Name's Wanda. Don't go calling me _Mrs. Flannery_ on accounts of it being rude not to. It's nothing more than a mouth full and a waste of time." Wanda smiles when she sees the slightly surprised and impressed look shared between JJ and Emily.

"_Wanda_," JJ continues while matching Wanda's smile, "what can you tell us about the people who did this to you?"

Wanda runs an aged finger across the tape covering her hand holding the IV port in place, and exhales deeply before speaking. "I can tell you some of them weren't but kids, younger than the two of you, that's for certain. Came out of nowhere, they did. I'm going to my car, and next thing I know some boy is shooting me with a pipe while others kick at me."

Emily feels her smile fade as she takes in the story and the tears threatening Wanda's eyes. She listens as Wanda continues to tell them about the group laughing, calling her names as they beat her with plastic PVC pipes and shoot her with heavy beanbags from a homemade cannon.

JJ tucks her notebook in her pocket before moving to recap her pen. The small movement catches Wanda's attention, causing the old woman to smile a sad smile when she captures sight of the ring adorning JJ's hand.

"Are you married, child?"

JJ looks up, surprised by the question. She looks down towards her hand, smiling shyly as she examines the ring. "Yes, newlyweds actually."

Leaning back against the pillow, Wanda closes her eyes, nodding slowly, and Emily isn't sure if it's because the meds are starting to kick in again or if the woman is starting to recall distant memories.

"My husband died a long time ago. Cancer did him in, it did." She opens her eyes, turning her head on the pillow so she's facing JJ and Emily, her accent growing thick with sleep. "He was so handsome, took after his father. His mother though, that was one witch of a woman. Never did like me, nor I her."

…_I know you are very important to him, and I would be honored if you were to welcome me into your family as he has. I feel it's very important to Spencer and myself that you have an active role in our growing family…_

As Wanda starts to close her eyes, letting the pain medication pull her into sleep, Emily and JJ slip through the gap in the curtain.

* * *

><p>Reid smiles when Emily walks in and sits next to him, pulling his attention from the reports he had been reading. "How'd it go?"<p>

Emily laughs as JJ sits opposite them saying, "When I'm seventy-two years old, I want to be like her. She's an amazing woman."

"She reminds me of an Irish Lynette," Emily tells Reid when he gives JJ a confused look. Blowing the steam from the top of her fresh coffee, JJ arches an eyebrow in confusion. "Who's Lynette?"

"My neighbor," Reid answers, reaching for JJ's abandoned notebook she had tossed on the table when first walking in.

Emily nods, trying not to stare as Reid opens the notebook. "She's amazing, JJ. Think of Wanda about two feet shorter and black." Emily knows Reid is reading over JJ's notes, she watches as the line between his eyebrows deepens and his eyes fill with sadness. "She was more pissed than anything," she tells him when he pushes the notebook back towards JJ, hoping to keep him from falling into a heavy sadness to match the look in his eyes. "She said we had better catch the bastards."

JJ taps her thumb on the notebook's cover as she remembers the anger Wanda had exhibited when describing the attack. "She might have called them a few other names, but I don't really speak Irish, or whatever it was she was saying."

"Probably Gaelic," Reid informs her, looking towards Emily to see her nodding in agreement.

"It was, and while mine's a bit rusty, I still managed to catch a few colorful phrases," she looks up and smiles. "Like JJ said, an amazing woman. She's tough, she'll get through this."

"When she's through tearing the surgical staff a new one," JJ laughs, as she sips the rest of her coffee, grimacing at the bitterness.

As the rest of the team crowds into the room, all talk of Wanda's fierceness is halted as JJ and Emily relay the details of the older woman's attack. The information is combined with that from the earlier attacks, helping to form a better idea of what's happening, a better profile.

As Emily begins to pack up to head back to the hotel, she sees the folder holding the letter resting against the lining of her bag. She pulls out the folder, rereading the two pages of slanted script before reaching for a pen.

Chancing a quick glance at Reid, smiling as he grabs an extra snack out of the complimentary bowl of treats sitting next to the window by the coffee pot, she quickly ends the letter.

_With love,_

_Emily_

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><p><em><em>**AN: I want to thank everyone for their well wishes concerning my surgery. All went well, and I can almost see again without blurriness and halos.  
><strong>

**Hey, check out the new way you can review! They've got a cool little box right there and everything!  
><strong>


	22. Chapter 22

"Despite what you may think, this isn't overreacting," Hotch says, trying not to smile when Emily glares at him, clearly showing her disagreement.

"I didn't say this was overreacting. I said this was ridiculous. Big difference." She runs her index finger under the edge of her new cast, already not liking the dry itchiness beginning to run along her wrist. "It wouldn't have hurt to wait until we got back to let Reid know. It's not that bad."

Training his eyes on the curtain separating the gurney Emily's currently sitting on from the remainder of the emergency room, Hotch keeps his voice steady. "Would you have wanted him to wait to tell you if it were him?"

Emily doesn't answer, choosing instead to test her elbow again, stretching her cast-encased wrist outwards, and flinching when the pain returns. She let's her wrist fall back to her knee, looking up when Hotch says, "Besides, you're pregnant."

"Which has nothing to do with my arm," Emily counters. She hates hospitals, usually she'd say that it's worse when you're there for someone else, silently waiting, but right now she's remembering it's not much fun being the patient either. She knows Reid had been worried, probably still is. She had come back from x-rays to find Hotch on the phone, explaining to Reid how Emily had broken her wrist and hyper-extended her elbow. She knows Hotch had to call someone, had to tell the team that everything was okay and that someone needed to meet Detective Woodson at the northern precinct in order to pick up the potential unsub, she just wishes he hadn't chosen to call Reid, resulting in a ten minute conversation which she spent assuring him the doctors had checked everything, insuring that the baby was unharmed and completely healthy.

She knows when they get alone he'll probably have one or two things to say about her chasing down an armed suspect—something she really isn't looking forward to. Right now, she's impatiently waiting for the nurse to come back with the discharge papers. The sling she had been given to stabilize her elbow lies on the bed next to her thigh. The large white cast taking up most of her right arm is already bad enough, the last thing she wants is the tacky, blue sling drawing attention and screaming, "Look at me!"

She watches as Hotch quickly checks his phone, responding to a text before looking back at her. "Everyone's met up with Woodson. Are you okay to go back to the precinct, or do you need to go back to the hotel?" This time Hotch allows a small smile in response to Emily's glare. He had known even while he was asking what her answer would be. It's always the same for all of the team. No one wants to be left behind. Even Garcia had insisted on being involved after she was shot.

"I fractured my wrist, Hotch. It didn't even break all the way. I'm perfectly capable of doing my job," she says, matching his smile. Both turn when the nurse walks back in, clipboard in hand. Emily awkwardly signs the discharge papers, hating the bulkiness of the cast. She allows the nurse to help her with the sling, not really wanting to argue on account of her eagerness to leave. That and the cast is a little heavy for her injured elbow.

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><p>Emily's walked into countless police stations over the years, and she's grown accustomed to the staring—either the result of general curiosity at seeing an FBI agent, or in resentment that the FBI's involved. Despite all of her experience, she feels a little awkward as Hotch holds the door open for her and she walks past the front desk.<p>

They've been in Philadelphia for almost two days now, and while they've spoken with several police officers and detectives from all over the city, she has yet to personally be in this particular precinct, and as a result hasn't met many of the individuals currently staring at her like she's just grown a second head. She ignores the stares, and follows Hotch through the crowded desks, keeping her eyes focused on the path in front of her.

This being one of the city's smaller precincts, it doesn't take long for Hotch and Emily to reach the crowded office near the back. Reid looks up as soon as they walk in and meets Emily's eyes, raising an eyebrow silently asking if she's okay.

She gives him a small, reassuring smile as she moves to stand next to him. She looks around, noticing Detective Woodson and an unfamiliar man sitting around the office's small, metal desk. Morgan, sitting in an old student-type school desk positioned in the corner, his elbows resting on the small, graffiti covered top, waits until Emily looks at him before asking, "Are you good?"

"Always," she smiles, glad when Rossi changes the subject, telling them they still haven't gotten a name from the man Hotch and Emily had apprehended. "Other than being a smart-ass, the kid hasn't said anything useful."

The man sitting next to Detective Woodson smiles, the wide, grey mustache moving as he speaks. "He had plenty to say at first, wanted us to know that he was a big shot until Agent Rossi pointed out he got taken down by an unarmed woman."

Rossi laughs, remembering the embarrassed shrug the unsub had given him before he had chosen to completely stop talking. "She's tougher than you'd think," he says, defending Emily.

Emily simply smiles in response, feeling some relief that the stares had been in response to the whole precinct knowing what she had done. She purposefully keeps her eyes directed away from Reid. She isn't certain how much Hotch had told him about what had happened, but judging by the way his body had tensed when Mr. No Name had mentioned that she had been unarmed, she guesses Hotch hadn't told Reid everything.

Reid patiently sits throughout the rest of the meeting, listening in as the unsub's lawyer and Hotch argue over whether or not the 'client' can be released. "This is insane. My client has suffered at the hands of the FBI and is being wrongly held—"

"Your client assaulted a Federal agent—"

"It was self-defense. He saw a gun and reacted accordingly—

"We had both announced ourselves as FBI agents. Your client then proceeded to run, and when he realized that he couldn't get away, he attacked my agent. He's being charged with assault and resisting arrest, not to mention being held in connection with a series of murders and assault cases. He isn't leaving this station."

Every time Reid hears new information about the attack, he feels the pit of his stomach twist as though it's attempting to curl in on itself. When Hotch had first called, telling him that he and Emily had arrested one of the potential unsubs and that Emily had been hurt in the process, he had immediately felt a rush of panic. Emily's been hurt before, she's been hurt worse, but now… Now, it's more than just her.

Emily had told him that she had immediately told the doctors that she was pregnant when she arrived at the hospital. She hadn't been too worried, mostly because all of the damage had been done to her arm. However, he could tell by talking to her on the phone that she sounded relieved, indicating that she had been worried, if even just a little.

Worry had quickly transformed into anger. Exactly what he's angry about, he isn't sure, but he knows it won't do any good trying to make Emily see his side. That doesn't mean that he'll just sit back and be quiet while she continues on as though nothing's changed.

He's been sitting in the corner, waiting for the chaos of the station to ease so they can return to the hotel, waiting for the time when he can be alone with Emily. He wants to know exactly what had happened, exactly why she deemed it necessary to chase after a man without a gun, and why Hotch hadn't shown up until after Emily had gotten hurt. Reid is angry, but he knows he doesn't really have a right to throw a fit. Mostly because there's too much potential for him to be called a hypocrite, for the words 'double standard' to be thrown at him while he tries to point out how dangerous it is to go it alone.

Reid jumps when Morgan sits in the chair next to him, bringing him out of his internal reverie.

"You know you have this look that always makes me think you're thinking too hard," Morgan laughs as he hands Reid a cup of coffee before taking a sip of his own. "Of course, knowing you, you probably are."

Reid just shrugs, not really wanting to tell Morgan what he had been thinking about. Everyone says he isn't difficult to read, and obviously now isn't an exception. Morgan continues to sip his coffee, letting the minutes tick by in silence as Reid continues to do the same.

Hotch and Rossi are interrogating the unsub, trying to convince him to give them the names of the others involved. JJ and Emily, along with a handful of detectives are crammed into the small observation room, watching as the two profilers attempt to work their magic. Reid had immediately backed out of observing the interview, the room too crowded to even think. He had thought Morgan would have been watching though, up front and center, but instead, Morgan's sitting here beside Reid, patiently waiting for someone to tell them what's happening.

"You know, Reid, she can still handle herself." Reid doesn't even pretend not to know what he's talking about. Keeping his eyes focused on the nearly empty cup of coffee, he murmurs, "I know."

"That being said, I still think you have a right to be worried." This time Reid turns his head, letting his confused eyes meet Morgan's dark, sympathetic ones.

"You do?"

"Yep. Hell, I was worried, and I'm just her friend," Morgan leans back in the chair, casting a glance towards the closed door leading to the interrogation room before continuing. "But you've also got to realize that Emily's not one of those sit back and watch kind of people. This whole 'you're-pregnant-so-take-it-easy' thing is gonna take a minute before it starts to override all the training and instincts she has as an agent. I mean, look at JJ, she was a few months along before we even knew about it."

Reid silently nods his head in understanding. He knew this already, just didn't want to listen to his own reasoning. But hearing it out loud from someone else who knows Emily better than she thinks just makes it all the more obvious. They've only known about the baby for two weeks, she's a few days shy of being eight weeks along; aside from the morning sickness and the slightly tighter fitting jeans, you wouldn't even be able to tell she's pregnant. He knows he can't really expect her to suppress fifteen years of training overnight and immediately take a back seat approach to doing her job. He may _want _her to, but he knows not to expect it.

Reid's about to ask Morgan what he suggests he should do, when the door next to the interrogation room opens up and half a dozen cops come spilling out, JJ and Emily not far behind. Emily's on the phone, walking towards the window to get away from all of the sudden noise. JJ runs her hands through her hair before resting them on her hips. She lets out a huff of breath before giving Reid and Morgan a tired smile. "He gave us six names."

"Thanks, Garcia." Emily hangs up the phone, and instead of putting it in her pocket, she slides it into the sling next to her cast, causing Reid to raise an amused eyebrow. "She says she'll call as soon as she has anything."

Detective Woodson, having already experienced the wonder that is Penelope Garcia, walks over to the small group of profilers. "I'm guessing your girl's already on top of it, no need for me to run around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get information she probably already has."

"You're a fast learner," says Morgan, standing when Hotch and Rossi start walking towards them. "Garcia's on it," he tells them, earning identical nods.

Reid remains quiet as Rossi fills him and Morgan in on the interrogation, telling them that the unsub's name is Lawrence Michaels, and that he's only nineteen years old, one of the oldest of the crew. A few minutes later, Emily's phone rings, letting them know Garcia found what she's looking for.

Making sure they have the precinct's full attention, Hotch and Detective Woodson begin delivering orders, splitting the numerous officers and profilers into teams in order to bring in the remaining six unsubs. "JJ, you're with me. Rossi's with Woodson. Morgan, you're with Reid."

Reid looks to Emily, noting a sour look on her face when Hotch fails to mention her name. Noticing that Reid's watching her, she softens her expression, giving him a knowing smile, letting him know she isn't planning on arguing. He smiles back, and turns to follow Morgan.

* * *

><p>"They're kids." JJ's words, though spoken as a whisper, echo through the ears of the crowded precinct as the last of the unsubs, the youngest being thirteen, is brought to booking. Once their identities were known, it had not been difficult to bring in the remaining six individuals. Considering most were minors, they still lived with their parents, and aside from household materials, they didn't have any weapons—at least nothing that posed a threat to a team of gun wielding agents.<p>

Emily swallows the sadness she feels when listening to the kids give their personal accounts of the attacks. Each one feels something different: some taking pride in their actions, bragging about what they've done, others feeling fear, purposefully trying to place the blame on someone else.

She watches as the parents begin to file into the precinct, some angry, others crying, some simply confused. For the first time, she truly listens to the parents as they try justifying their children's actions, defending them despite the overwhelming evidence recovered against them. For the first time, she wonders if she would be willing to do the same—could she sit down and blindly tell someone that her child could never do wrong?

Looking at Reid as he stands next to Hotch, listening to the parents' demands for a lawyer, she decides she never wants to be in that situation. Her and Reid know the potential for children to get into trouble, more than most people. They've seen it. Even as adults, parents have a tendency to defend their child's actions, no matter how old they are or what they've done.

She puts faith in the fact that her and Reid can do this, they can raise a child and not have to worry about one day crying out for a lawyer because their son or daughter thought it would be fun to beat a seventy-two year old woman with a PVC pipe.

She knows when they leave this station and manage to find some semblance of privacy, both Hotch and JJ will call home, each trying to hear their child's voice, letting them know that everything's okay. She knows that she'll need to find Reid. She'll have to let him know that she understands why he had been worried, why he had been angry. She'll have to let him know that she'll try to be more careful in the future, try not to put herself in situations where she could get hurt, and as a result, endanger their child.

She knows she'll have to let him know, because she's only just figured it out herself.

She catches Reid's eye and tries to smile, knowing it's full of sadness. He returns the smile, his eyes mirroring her feelings. She's not looking forward to the discussion, but she knows it needs to be done.

Emily and Reid spend the next few hours focusing their attention on the case, purposefully ignoring the issue of how she got hurt. The rest of the team doing the same, intentionally not mentioning how Lawrence Michaels had been caught, or asking Emily how she felt within earshot of Reid. Everyone seems to feel the slight tension festering between Reid and Emily, all knowing that the two need to talk.

Reid's planning to wait until they are home before talking to Emily about what had happened. That's why he hadn't said anything the entire time they were at the police station, or why he hadn't even considered trying to get just the two of them in an SUV when it was time to return to the hotel and pack. Despite the fact that it is public knowledge that they are in a relationship, Reid doesn't like the idea of displaying their personal issues for everyone to see. He plans on following Hotch's pseudo-unspoken orders to 'keep things professional', and wait until he and Emily are back in DC before he attempts to tackle the potentially stressful issue.

The fact that he plans to wait only results in it being more of a surprise when Emily decides not to.

The elevator doors open and everyone silently walks their separate ways, everyone's eyes trained on their own doors. Reid pulls out his keycard, fingers placed on the handle. He pushes the card in and quickly pulls it out, fingers twitching to push down on the handle the moment the orange light changes to green. However, before he has a chance, a hand on his elbow causes him to look up, eyebrows rising in surprise when he sees Emily smiling shyly, clearly waiting for him to open the door for her.

Reinserting the keycard, Reid pushes the door open, standing back so Emily can step in first. Reid looks to his right to see Morgan watching, silently giving Reid a look that says _good luck_.

Reid shuts the door and turns to find Emily standing next to the bed, her left hand idly rubbing the length of the cast covering her right. They both stand in silence, neither one knowing exactly what it is they want to say.

Finally, Reid clears his throat and walks towards the bed, dropping his bag and key on the side table. "How's your arm?"

"Fine," she answers, letting her hand move towards the strap on the sling. "This thing's rubbing my neck raw, though."

Reid nods his head, a slight smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, it'll do that," he says, remembering the time he had worn one. She smiles in return and both fall back into an awkward silence.

Emily isn't used to things being awkward with Reid. At least, not since they started dating. They're almost five months into this—all awkwardness should be gone, but yet, here they are standing across from one another, swimming in awkward.

Letting out a huff of air, Emily squares her shoulders, and looks towards Reid, her eyes landing somewhere near his shoulder, being as though she isn't too certain she's ready to meet his eyes. "So…are you gonna yell?"

"I wasn't planning on it," he says as he sits down on the edge of the bed. "Do you want me to?"

"Not really." Her tone is soft, but light, a product of feeling both relieved and amused by his answer. "But I would like you to tell me what you're thinking."

He looks up at her, straightening his posture as she takes a step towards him. For a moment he considers not saying anything, keeping hidden all the fear and anger that had arisen when he first learned that she had been hurt. But then he remembers the last few hours, the constant nagging of curiosity brought about by not knowing _exactly_ what had happened to result in a trip to the hospital. "What happened?"

She looks at him, and for the first time since meeting him, she wishes his eyes were different. The way he's looking at her now, she can see everything he's feeling, and it makes her want to cry. She sees the fear, the worry, the anger, the confusion. She's seen that look in his eyes before, but it's never been directed towards her. She's never been the reason for it, and right now, she hates it.

When she had first talked to him on the phone in the hospital, she had told him that she had no choice. She believed it then, and she still believes it now. Sitting on the bed next to him, letting her knee lean against his, she takes a deep breath and starts to tell him the story.

"You already know that Hotch and I went to talk to the kid who had called in a tip, saying he had an idea on who our unsubs were." Reid nods his head, keeping his eyes on the floor as he listens. Seeing his nod, she continues. "He didn't know their names, but he said that one of his neighbors was always hanging out with a loud group of kids. When he told us that his mom threatened to call the cops on the guy because he was using the side of the building for target practice for his potato gun, Hotch and I decided to check it out."

She takes another deep breath, knowing she's about to get to the part he wants to hear.

"He wasn't at home, but when we rounded the corner, we ran into him and another guy. When it looked like they were about to bolt, we drew our guns and announced ourselves as FBI."

Emily lets her eyes move from Reid's profile to stare at the spot on the floor that's currently holding his attention. She keeps the emotion out of her voice. She doesn't want to sound defensive, upset, or pissed. She keeps her voice calm, and tells him what happened as though she were on record, giving a report.

"Both men froze, but after a few seconds, they each took off in opposite directions. We followed, I went after Michaels and Hotch followed the other. I lost sight of Michaels when he made it to the parking lot. I had my gun out, watching for him. He jumped out from behind a parked car, grabbed my wrist and tried to wrestle my gun out of my hand. He pulled my arm back and slammed it against the side of the building repeatedly. I guess that's when my wrist broke because I dropped my gun, and he kicked it out of the way before running again."

When Emily feels the muscle in Reid's arm flex, she leans into his shoulder, letting her weight rest against him as she continues the story.

"I looked for my gun, but didn't see it so I took off after him. When he tried to climb up a fire escape, I grabbed him and pulled him down. He grabbed my arm and pulled it back. Hyper-extended my elbow."

She slants her eyes so she can watch Reid's reaction to the last part. "I got angry, so I punched him in the face. Right before I kicked him in the groin."

She tries not to smile at the involuntary flinch she sees Reid make in reaction to hearing _exactly_ how she was able to subdue to Lawrence Michaels, but she can't help but grin when he turns to her and there's no trace of anger left in his eyes. "You kicked him?"

"Yep."

"In the groin?'

"He hyper-extended my elbow. That bitch hurt."

Reid laughs, rubbing his palms against his knees before raising his hands defensively. "I'm not blaming you. I think the guy deserved it."

She pushes her arm against his before resting her head on his shoulder. "So we're good?"

"Emily, we were never _not _good. It's just…"

"Just what?" she asks, preparing herself for what she knows he's about to say.

"You're pregnant."

"So I've been told." Even though she can't see his face, she knows he's sporting a pouty frown. "Reid, I didn't have a choice. The guy was going to get away."

"I know that," he snaps, instantly regretting the sharpness of the words. Shaking his head, he lets his hand rest on her knee. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know why you're upset Reid. And I'm sorry that I can't completely apologize for getting hurt."

He squeezes her knee, stopping her from continuing. "I'm not blaming you for getting hurt. I'm not blaming you for doing what you did. I'm just angry at the whole situation."

"I know," she whispers, wrapping her good arm around his. "It wasn't supposed to be dangerous. We were just going to question a potential witness." She knows as soon as the words are out of her mouth how stupid they sound. She feels his head turn to look down at her as his hand once again squeezes her knee.

"Why does that sound familiar?" he questions, and she can hear the tired smile in his voice.

"Yeah, I guess that should have been a sign that something was gonna go wrong." She lets the relief she feels spread through her when she hears him laugh. She hadn't meant to bring up Hankel. When she first began to mentally prepare for this conversation, she had decided not to bring up any of the times Reid had gotten hurt or had put himself in harms way.

"Reid, I promise to take it easy. No more playing Rambo."

"Thank you."

"But I'm not going to hide in the office either."

"I understand," he turns and kisses her temple, pulling his arm around her. "But no more Rambo."

"No more Rambo," she promises.

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><p><strong>AN: Woohoo! Another chapter said and done.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I think some people seem to have lost interest with the story. For those of you who are still sticking with it, I greatly appreciate it and sincerely hope that it does not disappoint.**

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><p>"Again!"<p>

"Again?"

"Yeah, again!"

"All right. Watch closely." Reid holds up the card, showing Henry the largely printed Ace of Hearts held between his thumb and middle finger. "Are you watching?" When a mop of shaggy blonde hair earnestly nods, proving that the magician has the child's full attention, Reid quickly flicks his wrist and thumb, swapping the Ace of Hearts for the Queen of Diamonds, once again resulting in a wide pair of eyes and breathless giggles.

Garcia sits at the small kitchen island, secretly aiming her camera phone towards the duo sitting around the coffee table in the living room. For the last five minutes, she's taken dozens of snapshots, silently documenting Henry's amazement with the numerous card tricks Reid has chosen to perform.

As Reid begins to shuffle the cards for the umpteenth time, Garcia carefully slides her phone into the side pocket of her bag as JJ and Emily emerge from the bedroom. Emily experimentally pulls at the waistband of her pants, testing the fit of the loaner maternity jeans.

"Just pull the elastic if they're too loose, Emily," JJ says as she double checks the small, Spiderman book bag resting on the counter. "The last time I wore them, I was almost five months along, so they're probably pretty loose."

Reid looks up from the cards to see Emily pulling on a black, elastic band tucked along the seam of the waistband. He turns his eyes back to the cards as Henry anxiously waits for him to finish shuffling. He thought he had been paying attention, keeping a close eye on her growing stomach, but the day she had her cast removed, he realized he had missed something.

She had been standing at the bathroom sink, earnestly scrubbing her pale wrist with a washcloth, complaining about how gross her arm looked, when he caught sight of the clearly noticeable bump pushing against her tank top. Whether or not the cast had distracted him or the dark clothing she'd been wearing had done a good job of concealing it, she was definitely starting to show-hence, the borrowed pants, and the need to shop for new ones.

"Spence, I have an extra change of clothes in here in case he has an accident. There's some crayons in here, and a few coloring books, but he'll probably be okay watching cartoons for a while."

"JJ, you do realize this isn't my first time watching him?" Reid asks with a smile, trying not to laugh as Henry unsuccessfully attempts to shuffle the deck of cards, resulting in an impromptu game of 52 pick up.

JJ simply zips the book bag closed and sets it on the end of the couch. Choosing to ignore Reid's last statement, she smiles and picks Henry up, squeezing him in a big hug. "Are you going to be a good boy today?"

Henry laughs and begins to squirm as JJ tickles his ribs before sitting him back down. "Don't get into any trouble," she says, before picking up her purse.

"He won't," Reid promises, standing to follow her into the kitchen.

"I was talking to you," JJ teases, prompting a somewhat confused and slightly offended frown from Reid.

Grabbing her keys, Emily leans in and quickly kisses Reid, adamantly ignoring Garcia's less than inconspicuous attempt to take a picture. "We won't be gone all day."

Reid quirks an eyebrow, "I think that's what you all said last time." Garcia laughs as she pats him on the cheek, "It was."

With a chorus of "Bye Henry" and "Have fun", Emily, JJ, and Garcia slowly make their way to the door, leaving Reid alone with a three year old. Turning to find said three year old completely occupied with spreading the cards wildly around the coffee table, Reid lets out a heavy sigh as he realizes the deck of cards is done for.

It doesn't take as long as he thought it would to convince Henry to give up the cards and settle down with some crayons and a movie. Watching as the opening sequence starts up for one of the many DVDs JJ had packed, Reid hands Henry several pieces of blank copy paper along with his coloring books. Experience has taught him not to expect Henry to sit still throughout the entire movie. Henry doesn't disappoint.

Reid sits down on the end of the couch, watching in interest as Henry's attention dances from the papers spread in front of him to the dancing characters across the small TV screen and the small pile of toys retrieved from the Spiderman bag. Barely five minutes have passed since the opening credits finish before Henry abandons the crayons and is crawling over to the toys, bending the arms of one of the action figures back to an unnatural position.

Reid keeps an eye on his watch, timing how long it takes before Henry's distracted again. Less than two minutes before the action figure's forgotten. Just under five minutes and two different coloring sheets and three pieces of blank paper later, Henry abandons the drawings and reaches for a Dr. Seuss book, a green crayon sticking out of his mouth. Less than twenty seconds pass before the dancing characters on the screen capture the child's attention. The saliva covered, green crayon falls forgotten to the ground while still fingers hold on to _Green Eggs and Ham_, the pages falling loosely against his leg as Henry stands and stares at the colorful creatures dancing in sync. For a record breaking forty-three seconds, Henry is completely still, his eye never leaving the television screen. As soon as the music ends, Henry shakes his head, turns and runs towards the couch, swinging the book wildly as he climbs and gets settled.

The next two hours pass in pretty much the same fashion. Henry entertaining himself with the toys and TV while Reid keeps an eye out, insuring the boy doesn't hurt himself, occasionally abandoning the series of books he had been reading to read a few of Henry's out loud.

As lunchtime rolls around and Henry wakes from his short nap, Reid wanders into the kitchen, silently hoping there are enough leftovers to feed himself and Henry. One look in the fridge tells him he hoped too much. "Hey, Henry." At the sound of his name, Henry runs into the kitchen.

"What do want for lunch?" Reid can't help smiling as Henry tilts his head, seriously thinking about the question, one bare foot sliding back and forth across the tiled floor.

"Green eggs and ham," he states matter-of-factly, bending his head back so he can look Reid in the eyes. Reid just stares at him, wondering if Henry's old enough to grasp the concept of sarcasm, or if the he really wants green eggs and ham.

"Green eggs and ham?" Henry grins and nods his head excitedly as though Reid's finally catching on.

Reid lets his eyes wander over the kitchen cabinets as he considers the possibility of having green eggs and ham for lunch. Eggs wouldn't be a problem, Emily keeps a constant supply at both apartments. The ham though, he doesn't have any ham. Then there's the whole _green_ issue. Reid knows for a fact that they don't have any food coloring in the apartment, and anything that he could add to change the eggs green wouldn't be edible.

Smiling, Reid looks back to Henry. "Okay, buddy. Time for a field trip." Reid picks Henry up, resting him on his hip as he heads for the door. Crossing the small hallway between apartments, Reid knocks lightly, knowing full well that his neighbor is always baking and takes pride in her homemade frosting, which usually consists of bright colors.

Lynette's eyes widen when she sees Reid standing outside her door with a small, blonde haired boy perched on his hip. "Hello, Spencer. And who is this?" she asks, smiling brightly at the suddenly shy boy.

"Lynette, this is Henry. Henry this is my friend Lynette. Can you say 'hi'?"

Lynette only smiles wider as Henry offers a whispered "Hi" before putting two fingers in his mouth. "This is your godson, yes?" she asks, taking in the death grip Henry has on the shoulder of Reid's shirt.

"Yeah. His mom went shopping with Emily. His dad's at work so I volunteered."

"That's good. It'll be good practice for you." Reid nods in agreement, noting the look Lynette has chosen to adopt when speaking of Reid and Emily's baby. It makes Reid think of the looks Rossi had given him the days before Emily revealed she was pregnant—the patented _I know something you don't_ look. Reid knows Lynette has years of experience raising children, not only her own but grandchildren, as well, and he isn't above taking her advice when she offers it—which she does often.

"What can I help you with, Honey?"

"We need food coloring."

"Food coloring?"

"Green food coloring." Reid adjusts Henry on his hip as Lynette opens the door wider, silently inviting them to follow her as she makes her way to the kitchen.

"I think I used up all of the green at Easter, but I have other colors." Lynette opens up her pantry, reaching for the small box of assorted food dyes. "I've got a lot of blue."

Reid takes the offered bottle, making sure to keep it away from Henry who seems content with studying the contents of Lynette's crowded kitchen with wide eyes. "You wouldn't happen to have yellow would you?"

Smiling Lynette holds up a nearly empty bottle of yellow coloring. "May I ask what you two boys are planning?"

"We're going to have green eggs for lunch." Reid tells her. Henry quickly looks up, looking at Reid as though the man had missed something important.

"Green eggs _and ham_," Henry corrects.

Reid turns to Lynette, his eyes hopeful. "Do you have any ham we could borrow?"

"No, but I have bologna and bacon."

"Bologna will do." He says taking the small yellow bottle of food coloring from her as she walks to the fridge.

"B'loney?" Henry asks, prompting a short laugh from Lynette, who turns and hands Reid the pack of sandwich meat, before saying, "Sugar, it's got ham in it."

After thanking Lynette for the borrowed supplies, Reid walks back to his apartment, setting Henry down as soon as his front door is closed. "Alright, Henry. Let's make green eggs and ham."

As Henry runs ahead, beating Reid to the kitchen, he yells back, "B'loney, not ham."

"Green eggs and bologna then." Reid sets the food dye and bologna on the counter, and gathers the eggs from the fridge before pulling out a stool and sitting Henry on top. "Okay, you gonna help?"

"Yeah," Henry whispers in excitement, the bubbly energy overtaking his body belying the hushed tone of his answer.

Reid pulls out a clear, mixing bowl from the cabinet, setting it down in front of Henry. "Okay, first thing's first. We have to make everything green. Do you know what green looks like?" he asks.

Despite Henry's earnest nod that he does, Reid still asks him to point out which color is green. When Henry successfully points to the large, green dinosaur on his shirt, Reid smiles and holds up the two bottles of food coloring Lynette had given them. "Do you know what colors these are?"

"Blue and yellow," Henry answers.

"Right, they're not green are they?" Henry shakes his head, frowning a little as realization starts to sink in.

"Do you know what happens when we mix blue and yellow together?" Another head shake. "We get green." Reid turns both bottles upside down, squeezing their contents into the clear bowl. As they mix, he looks up to see Henry's wide-eyed stare at the now green dye.

The next twenty minutes are spent with Reid trying to keep Henry's hands from staining green and blue as he helps Reid dip the bologna into the dye before frying it. Soon, the now green, scrambled eggs are finished and cool enough to eat. Not wanting to risk Henry falling off the stool while they eat, Reid takes Henry and their food into the living room, setting their plates down on the coffee table.

Reid valiantly ignores the small bites of egg that don't quite make it to Henry's mouth, falling instead to the floor beneath the table. While the tips of Reid's fingers are dyed green, both of Henry's hands appear as though he stuck them palm down into the bowl of dye, light traces of blue speckle his wrist from where the lid to the bottle had come loose and squirted the child as he attempted to add more coloring to the mix.

Now Reid watches as Henry uses his stained hands to put the eggs on his fork before putting it in his mouth, resulting in even more dye transferring to his fingers. By the time Henry finishes his bologna, the entire outside of his mouth is stained green.

Reid picks up their plates and carries them into the kitchen, calling for Henry to follow him. "Let's get cleaned up and then we can have some chocolate milk. How's that sound?"

"Good," Henry agrees, reaching his arms up for Reid to pick him up and sit him on the counter. Henry licks at his fingers, tasting remnants of the fried bologna as Reid waits for the water to warm up.

The sound of the key turning in the lock, laughing, and high heeled footsteps prelude an amused, "Whoa, what happened to the two of you?"

Emily, JJ, and Garcia all stand in the little doorway separating the living room from the kitchen, each staring at the very colorful pair resting against the kitchen counter.

Henry smiles, grinning widely at his mother. "We ate green eggs and b'loney!"

"Green eggs and b'loney? What happened to ham?" JJ asks, mirroring Henry's smile and raising her voice to match her son's excitement.

"'Nette didn't have no ham. But b'loney has ham in it." Henry answers as Reid rings out the washcloth and reaches for one of Henry's outstretched hands.

"Oh, our Dr. Reid pulled a Dr. Seuss. I love it!" Garcia exclaims, not even trying to hide her happiness as she pulls out her phone and begins taking more snapshots. "Henry, stick out your tongue."

Everyone laughs as Henry proudly displays his green tinged tongue sticking out between equally stained teeth. More laughter erupts when Garcia snaps a photo of Reid sticking out his own tongue, his eyes crossing as he examines the new color.

"That was probably the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time," Emily says several hours later as she hangs the last of her new clothes in the closet.

"What?" Reid asks, using a towel to dry the last bit of his hair, his skin still flushed from the hot shower.

"You with Henry. The whole green eggs and ham thing, it was cute." Emily closes the closet door and walks to sit on her side of the bed.

Reid tosses the towel into the hamper before moving to sit next to her. "Well, to be fair, it was Henry's idea to have it for lunch, and according to Garcia, everything he does is cute."

"She's right," Emily says, turning to look at Reid. "Is your mouth still green?"

Reid answers by sticking out his tongue, showing a small bit of yellowish-green down the middle that the toothpaste and mouthwash had failed to wash away.

"It'll be gone by tomorrow," she says, smiling when she thinks about the messy three year old JJ had carried home. "Can't say the same about Henry's hands though."

Reid laughs, holding up his own fingers, which still show a light tinge of green. "Yeah, Lynette gave JJ some baking soda to help clean it off."

"Henry seems to like her," Emily muses as she works to pull the clips and ponytail holder out of her hair.

"Because she helped him have green eggs and a ham by-product for lunch" Reid says, laughing. Remembering what else Lynette had said, he lets the smile soften. "She told me watching Henry would be good practice for when our baby's born."

Running her fingers through her hair, letting the tips massage her tired scalp, Emily studies the look of contemplation on Reid's face. "It is," she answers, causing him to look up. "But for the record, I don't think you need it."

"What do you mean?" he asks, one hand placed on the lamp switch, ready to turn it off.

"Reid, you're good with kids. Henry's proof of that. Hell, even Jack loves you," she says, remembering the last time Hotch had brought Jack to dinner at Rossi's. "Morgan's just messing with you, and if the whole 'Reid effect' is real, then maybe you've just out grown it."

"It was real," Reid tells her, remembering more than one instance where dogs or cats, Sergio included, had reacted badly to him simply being in the room.

"Well, like I said, you've out grown it. You were great with Henry today, and I don't think that our baby will be any different."

Reid just smiles, allowing his mind to picture another child eagerly dipping bologna into food coloring, a child with dark hair and even darker eyes. Turning off the light, Emily and Reid quickly fall asleep, both tired from the days activities.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review, and let me know what you think. It motivates me to write, and lets me know if the story's even worth reading. **


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: For the record, Cirque du Soleil really did debut in Vegas in 1992.**

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><p>Two pairs of eyes continue their stand off of wills, each attempting to gain bragging rights to the title of <em>most stubborn<em>. The clock continues to tick off the minutes, each passing second continuing to serve as a testament to the intensity of the stand off.

Garcia quirks an eyebrow, thrumming her nails across the smooth, black, plastic service of the now controversial object in her hands.

Reid keeps his hands on the armrests of his chair, absently picking at a slight groove scratched into the plastic on the underside of the arm.

The conference room is otherwise empty, everyone else having yet to arrive.

"Reid, just pick one. There's no right or wrong answer."

"Garcia, this is stu—"

"Don't you dare say 'stupid'. I don't think any of those doctorates makes you an expert on what is and is not stupid."

"But owning a magic eight ball does?" Reid asks sarcastically, earning a pointed look from Garcia. The two fall back into silence, continuing their quiet staring contest. When Garcia realizes that Reid isn't likely to give in, she raises her hands and begins to shake the magic eight ball.

"Alright, if you won't pick I'll pick for you. How about a girl? We need a girl." Smirking as she ignores Reid's slight eye roll, Garcia continues to shake the magic eight ball. Bringing her lips close to the ball as though it would make it hear her better, she whispers, "Are Reid and Emily going to have a baby girl?"

Three more shakes and she earnestly flips the ball over, watching as the small dye bounces, blue bubbles moving along the sides. "Try again later," she reads aloud, disappointment evident in her voice.

Reid tries to hide his amusement, but fails when a small snort of laughter emanates at the annoyance Garcia's now showing towards the plastic toy. She lets her hand fly out, smacking him on the arm as she sets the ball back on the table. "Shut up, Dr. Know-it-all. It worked for Emily."

"What did it say?" he asks as she stands to ready the room for the meeting Hotch had called. She lays out several legal pads and pens, one at each chair before reaching into her bag for a handful of folders. "Most definitely," she answers as she lays out the folders on top of the legal pads.

As Reid opens up the folder, looking at the make-shift agenda outlining the many topics to be covered within the meeting, Garcia stares at him, impatiently waiting for him to say something else.

"Aren't you going to ask?" she says when it becomes obvious that he's planning on remaining silent.

"Ask what?"

"What Emily said she wants," she explains, taking her seat once more. Reid simply shrugs his shoulders as he looks back down at the paper in front of him, before saying, "She told me she'd be happy either way."

It's Garcia's turn to roll her eyes as she begins doodling on the edge of one of the legal pads. "She said she'd like a boy," Garcia starts, stopping long enough to make sure she has Reid's attention. "Because boys are supposed to be easier to raise than girls." At the look of doubt on Reid's face, Garcia quickly adds, if for nothing more than to defend Emily, "That's what everyone says."

Reid furrows his brow, looking as though Garcia just suggested that the mass population truly believes the world is flat. "Why does everyone say that? There's no reason or proof for why that would be true."

When Garcia notices that Reid looks to be readying himself to explain _exactly_ why that isn't true, she quickly holds up a hand, stopping him from continuing. "Reid, sweetie. I'm not saying I believe it, it's just a saying or an old wife's tale, or urban legend or whatever you want to call it. Point is, I asked Emily to choose what she hopes the baby will be, and like a _sensible_ person, she picked one, instead of hassling me about technicalities."

Reid leans back in his chair, biting his lower lip and making a conscious effort to keep quiet and not defend his reasons for not wanting to choose whether or not he wanted a boy or girl. He manages to do so for about two minutes before the reflexive part of his brain takes over and decides to talk without asking for permission first.

"What if we don't have a boy?" he asks.

Garcia, oblivious to the slight hint of worry coloring the question, grins as she turns the legal pad sideways to continue her doodling. "Then I will be more than happy to buy lots of teeny-tiny dresses and matching hair bows."

Reid lets his eyes take in the brightly colored headband decorated with feathers tapering off towards Garcia's left ear, and tries to push aside images of a baby dressed in layers of mismatched, brightly colored outfits. He tries to find solace in knowing that Emily won't allow Garcia to dress their child, boy or girl, in anything too ridiculous, but fails when he remembers photographs Garcia had printed off of Emily in her younger days.

Toying with the edge of the folder, Reid pushes aside his embarrassment, and decides since he's already got his toes in the water to dive right in and speak his mind. "You don't think it'll be…weird if the baby is a girl and Emily's been hoping for a boy?"

Garcia lets her pen drop, the bobble-headed top keeping it from rolling off the table. She folds her hands to rest in front of her, and levels a serious, yet heart-felt stare in Reid's direction. "Spencer Reid, Emily is going to love this baby, boy or girl, and will truly be happy either way, just like she told you before—"

"I know that—"

"Uh-uh. Don't interrupt. Do you remember how much I hoped Henry would be a girl?"

Reid quirks an eyebrow, unsure if he's really allowed to answer or if the question had been rhetorical. At the expectant look Garcia gives him, he allows his head to nod, letting her know that he does, in fact, remember the numerous times Garcia had let her desires for JJ to have a little girl known.

Seeing Reid's small, confused nod, Garcia continues. "I _really_ liked the idea of a little girl, _but_ after Henry was born, I was head-over-heels in love with that little boy, and still am to this day."

Reid just smiles, thinking about the numerous gifts Godmother Garcia has presented to the boy since his birth. Gifts aside, the love Garcia has for her godson is evident in everything she does for him or pertaining to him—the drawings he had given her tacked up around her office and apartment, photos of him serving as desktop backgrounds, and screensavers for her phone and computers, the fact that she plans her time off around his birthdays and major holidays.

The smile stays in place as her voice keeps him from zoning out in his own thoughts. "All I'm saying is that there's no reason to worry whether or not Emily's going to love your baby any less if _he _ends up being a _she_."

"Garcia, I don't doubt Emily will love the baby any less if it turns out to be a girl, I'm just confused as to why someone would prefer one over the other. I mean, I could understand if you already had a boy, wanting a girl for your second child or vice versa, but…" he slowly trails off as Garcia starts to smile amusedly. "What?" he asks.

"You're mind really doesn't work like anyone else's does it?" she says by way of an answer, once again resuming her doodling, only half-heartedly. "Only you would question a person's reasons behind preferring a boy or a girl."

"All I'm saying," he begins, using her earlier choice of words, "Is that for me specifically, there really is no need to wish for one over the other. It's not like I'm rooting for an all-star athlete or Emily's out for a future ballerina. Most of the things we do, either sex can excel in, academia being one." He shyly shrugs one shoulder, one corner of his mouth twitching upward into a smile. "Besides, even if I wanted a kid that was really athletic or could be tough and strong, a girl would still be fine. Morgan's already pointed out more than once that Emily is perfectly capable of kicking my ass."

Garcia laughs out loud, nodding her head in agreement. "That she is, Reid," she says as she wipes away a stray tear, happy to see that he's laughing, too. They fall back into an occasional silence, each offering a random bit of conversation as the minutes pass by and Garcia finishes doodling and swaps out the decorated legal pad for a clean one. The magic eight ball sits forgotten, and if any of the team notices it as they walk in slowly making their way into the conference room, none say anything.

JJ and Morgan walk in first, each unknowingly in step with one another, steaming cups of coffee in hand as they take their seats. Rossi is next, face forming an amused frown as he looks at the child-like drawings of monkeys and stars decorating the edges of his notepad. Instead of tearing off the sheet and starting anew, he picks up the pen lying next to the pad and begins to add his own flare, giving the monkeys guns and the stars eye patches, much to the joy of Garcia.

Hotch and Emily walk in next, one right after the other. Hotch, with his usual stoic, down to business expression, sits down first, only taking a moment to look over the agenda to insure that Garcia had included everything he had told her to, before grabbing his pen and making last minute adjustments. As Emily rounds the table to sit in the now permanently and silently agreed upon seat reserved for her next to Reid, Reid takes another moment to examine her growing belly. Truth be told, those who don't know she's pregnant would never be able to tell, not with the loose fit and dark colors she wears. Despite being nearly fifteen weeks along, the growing bump is still just that—a bump. But as she leans back in her chair, gravity causing the material of her shirt to fall back, Reid detects the subtle incline of her stomach, slowly rising as it nears her navel.

She has time to offer him a warm smile before Hotch clears his throat and the meeting begins. The next hour is spent with Hotch relaying information from his meeting with Strauss, discussing budget adjustments, vacation time, and reminding them of the importance of procedures. After reminding Morgan and JJ that they are both up for re-qualification for firearms, the meeting is adjourned and everyone is free to catch up on paperwork until lunch.

As Emily follows Reid back to the bullpen, she watches as Garcia walks through the double doors, magic eight ball cradled tightly in one hand. "Did she get you, too?"

Once he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Reid turns to look at Emily. "Who got me with what?" he asks, generally confused.

"Did Garcia play twenty magical questions? She cornered me this morning when I was in her office." Emily plops in her seat, looking up towards Reid whose standing behind her, empty coffee cup in hand waiting to be refilled. "Yeah, she got me," he answers before he walks towards the break room, returning minutes later with a long overdue fresh cup of coffee.

He picks up where he left off earlier that morning, reading over case reports before Garcia had walked in, swatting him upside the back of his head with a folder and ordering him to accompany her to the conference room. Thinking back over the conversation and resulting argument and eventual enlightenment centering around the magic eight ball, Reid once again works up the courage to voice his thoughts and question his doubts.

"Hey Emily," he says, loud enough for her to hear but not draw the unwelcome attention of anyone sharing the small work space.

"Yeah," she answers never taking her eyes off the computer screen currently showing a half-finished email.

"Do you really think boys are easier to raise than girls?"

The meaning behind his question sinking in, she turns her head to look in the direction she had last seen Garcia, the technical analyst's form long out of sight. "In a way," she tells him, the tone of her voice telling both of them she's unconvinced. "I _do_ know that I wasn't an easy kid to raise."

Reid keeps quiet, biting the inside of his cheek when the image of Emily's high school photo re-emerges in his mind's eye, and waits for her to continue.

"Have you ever heard the old adage 'your kids will give you twice the hell you gave your parents'?"

Reid shakes his head and frowns, not liking the idea any more than Emily appears to like it. She taps her knuckles quietly on the desktop, letting out a slightly embarrassed laugh before saying what's on her mind. "I don't want to turn into my mother, and I thought it would be less likely to happen if we had a son rather than a daughter. Besides, I know what girls are capable of and the thought of a teenage daughter scares me to death."

"Me, too," Reid answers honestly. "But truth be told, the thought of having a _teenager _scares me to death, boy or girl."

Emily sits back, letting the screensaver take over her forgotten computer monitor. "Were you even a bad kid?" she asks, smiling so he knows she isn't judging.

"I wasn't the _ideal_ son, if that's what you mean," he answers, knowing exactly it isn't enough to answer her question.

"What was the most rebellious thing you ever did as a kid? Nothing life changing, just something to do to spite your parents." She leans forward now, light smile turning into a mischievous grin, daring him to answer.

Resting his elbow on the desk while he twirls a pen between his fingers, he matches her stare, "If I tell you mine, you have to tell me one of yours."

"Deal," she says, ignoring the fact that he had said _one of yours_, indicating that he knew she had more than one rebellious moment. "But you first," she says, unconsciously leaning forward.

"It was about two weeks before my high school graduation. Mom had been taking her meds for a couple of months, so she was doing pretty well about taking care of herself. It also kind of made her aware that she needed to be a mother to her son. I had gotten used to it being just the two of us. I had gotten even more used to not having to worry about asking for permission before doing something. I made sure she had eaten, bathed, and taken her meds, then the rest of the time I did what I wanted or needed, didn't worry about whether she was okay with it." He looks up from the edge of his desk that had captured his attention for most of the telling of his story to see whether or not he still had

Emily's attention. Seeing that she was waiting for him to keep going, he takes a deep breath and continues.

"One of our neighbors was about two years older than me, but he competed in spelling bees and science fairs with Ethan and me for years. His cousin worked for one of the casinos and had access to all kinds of shows. _Cirque du Soleil_ had just debuted a show in Vegas, and his cousin was able to get his family tickets. They decided to bring me along, kind of like a graduation present. Anyway, I said I'd go, and when I got home I just happened to mention it in passing to my mom. She freaked out and said I couldn't go. Went so far as to forbid me from seeing my friend any more.

"I don't know if it was emerging hormones, practice for teenage angst, or what, but when she told me I couldn't go, I got mad and stormed off to my room." He takes another deep breath, quirking an eyebrow and letting out a huff of air as he remembers the anger he had felt at the time. "The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, so the night of the show, I told her I was going, and …just went, her yelling that I shouldn't."

It wasn't that he hadn't had the nerve to sneak out; it was that he didn't want his schizophrenic mother to wake up and find him gone and spiral into an episode. "At the time I didn't know why she was so uncomfortable with me hanging out with older people. I had forgotten about Riley Jenkins, and had been socializing with people years older than me since I was nine. When I got home, she was crying and I felt so bad, I spent the next two weeks apologizing. It was the last time she was lucid for a while." His voice had grown soft as the story went on, obviously recognizing the feel of the emotions that had accompanied the memory.

Wanting to alleviate any awkward or depressing tension, Emily smiles softly and asks, "So, just so we're clear. You ran away to go to the circus?"

Reid smiles, but says in a calm, emotionless voice, "I didn't run away, and it was the Cirque, not the circus." Resting his hands in his lap, he smiles and stretches his legs, crossing his feet at the ankles as he leans back in his chair. "Your turn."

She smiles, tilting her head to the side as she thinks of an entertaining story. "Alright," she spreads her hands out over her desk, palms down as she begins her story. "When I was fourteen, I got really angry at my mom, but to be fair, the majority of my teenage years were spent being angry at my mom. Don't ask me why, I just was."

Seeing the way Reid dips his head and raises an eyebrow, she quickly adds, "I know I still get angry with her, call me young at heart." When he drops the eyebrow and smiles, she continues. "I don't remember exactly what it was that had started it, but we had been fighting nonstop for almost a week. I mean yelling, doors slamming, the usual. I got it in my head, that since I was tired of being around her, I'd just leave, so I got my passport and her credit card and flew to Quebec."

This time, both of Reid's eyebrows shoot up as he takes in the enormity of her rebellion. "You stole your mom's credit card and left the country."

"Yep."

"What country had you started out in?"

"Italy, we had just moved there. We ended up staying for another year," she says, forcing the smile to stay in place as she remembers the events that had taken place within that year, her hand unconsciously going to her stomach.

"What happened when she found you?" he asks.

"I had planned on taking a little vacation, but it turns out, back then it was easy for a minor to leave the country without parental supervision, but it wasn't as easy to enter a country, diplomatic status or not. I never made it through customs. Fifteen hours after I landed, my mom's secretary was in Montreal to pick me up. They had detained me, and kept me in one of the interrogation rooms."

"So, just so we're clear, you _actually did _runaway?" he says, smiling as she wrinkles her nose.

"It was only going to be for a little while, two weeks tops. And it wasn't for the circus."

Reid nods his head, thinking over the story she had just told him and files it away in the corner of his mind reserved for everything Emily.

"Hey Emily."

"Yeah?"

"For both of our sakes, let's hope that old adage about kids giving their parents hell is nothing more than an old saying."

"I'm way ahead of you. Because between the two of us, you being a child prodigy and me being, well…_me_, I'm pretty sure any kid of ours would be a force to be reckoned with."

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><p><strong>Reviews are welcome, and appreciated. For those of you unhappy with the last chapter, I apologize and kept that in mind when I wrote this one. Not sure if it's that much different, but it's getting the story where it needs to go.<br>**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Just a head's up, italics = dream. Personally, I think it's obvious, but I've had it pointed out to me that my brain doesn't work like everyone else's. **

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><p>It's amazing how many people get pregnant when they have another child still in diapers. Nine kids, none of them older than five, run around the small waiting room, shifting through a trunk full of germ covered toys, a breeding ground for pink eye and staphylococcus. Reid counts the number of kids still in diapers running back and forth from their mothers, all in various stages of pregnancy. Four, and that's just right now, in this office, on a Wednesday morning.<p>

Listening as one of the four starts crying for reasons unseen by Reid, he silently thinks _All the more power to you, ladies._ There's no way he would be sane enough, strong enough, or willing to handle more than one toddler at once. His time with Henry had made that perfectly clear.

Resting his head back on the beige stucco, he lets out a tired sigh. They've already been there for an hour and a half, only to see two women go back to see the doctor while twelve more filed in to fill the waiting room. This isn't his first time here. He's been here several times before, but this time is a little different. Emily's far enough along that the doctor should be able to determine the sex of the baby, if the baby's in the right position.

No more wondering. No more magic eight ball. Just a simple boy or girl. If the baby's in the right position. Reid likes knowing things, and Emily isn't too good when it comes to patience, so it would probably be best for both of them to know right away whether Garcia can start buying little dresses or miniature, faux-leather jackets.

For some reason, the music playing over the speakers shuts off, making the ambient noise of the waiting room appear all the more louder. Emily steadily reads the book she had brought with her. Reid had already read it, and had purposefully left all of his belongings, save his phone, in the car. He hadn't planned on it taking this long.

He lifts his head up from the wall when he feels movement near his left knee. Looking down, he sees a little boy, big blue eyes shining up from an Oreo smeared face as he shakes a magazine in one hand only to leave it crumpled and torn in the vacant seat next to Reid. As soon as the blue-eyed boy leaves, a little girl with equally blue eyes, runs up and grabs the magazine before running back to sit next to a woman playing on her iphone.

He leans his head back on the wall, smiling when he sees Emily impatiently check her watch. She's done it every ten minutes, almost like clockwork. 8:49. 8:59. 9:09. Now, it's 9:19 and they're still waiting.

"Emily Prentiss." A nurse in dark brown scrubs accented by pale blue calls out in a well-practiced false cheerfulness. She smiles as Reid and Emily follow her into one of the back rooms, asking how they're doing with enough sincerity that, if they didn't know better, they might actually think she cares.

Reid leans against the wall as Emily sits in the chair, offering her arm so the nurse can take her blood pressure and check her temperature. Emily takes off her shoes, steps on the scale and waits as the nurse writes down her weight, assuring her that it's perfectly healthy for her to have only gained four pounds so far. Emily doesn't flinch when the nurse draws blood, but she does wrinkle her nose, which causes Reid to laugh. He's pretty sure those tattoos she has hidden hurt a lot more.

Next, they're brought to an exam room, and Emily sits on the bed, Reid taking the chair next to her, her bag resting on his feet as they wait. "I hope we can see what it is," she whispers to the wall, and Reid isn't sure if she meant to say it out loud or not. He nods in silent agreement, a small anxious feeling creeping into his gut at the thought of not knowing for another five to six months.

Emily glances down towards Reid, one leg bouncing dangerously fast while he bites his lower lip—definitely full of nervous anticipation. "You know, if you keep that up, you're liable to wear a hole in the floor." She lets the smile play out on her lips as he turns confused eyes towards her, blushing slightly when he realizes what she's saying.

Wiping his hands on the fabric covering his knees, he clears his throat. "I'm just anxious. I'm ready to know."

Emily nods her head, "Me, too. I know Garcia's ready for us to know, too." If any one were to ask Garcia, the last month had taken twice as long to pass as any other. At one point in time, she had declared to nobody in particular, "Christmas will freaking get here before we figure out what the baby's going to be." Reid had been wise enough to know she was just venting her frustration and didn't point out that the baby is actually due well before Christmas.

"Are you going to call your mom after we know?" he asks, remembering the surprisingly long phone call where Emily had finally revealed to her mother that she was having a baby. Elizabeth Prentiss had once again let her true feelings known in the guise of subtle hints and broad statements, but only slightly. Mostly due to the fact that she was actually excited about the prospect of a grandchild, the father of which being a certifiable genius with a respectable career. Emily had ended the phone call in tears, shaking off Reid's concerned hand on her shoulder, declaring that she was _almost_ certain the tears were happy. The fact that the ambassador had finally been given an assignment put her well out of the country, which probably helped the tension between the two women.

"If we learn what the sex is, then yes, I'll call her." Emily doesn't mention that she'll write Diana whether she knows or not. Two weeks after sending her letter to Reid's mom, both Reid and Emily had been surprised when a small envelope had arrived in the mail, return address marked Las Vegas. Diana had written two letters, one addressed to Reid and one to Emily, explaining how happy she was for them, wishing them the best of luck, and thanking Emily for including her. Since then, Emily has written Diana regularly. Not everyday like Reid, but at times when something significant happens: when she first noticed she was showing, the first time they heard the baby's heartbeat, or when the baby had first started to move.

She almost laughs when she notices Reid has started shaking his leg again. She does laugh when she realizes that she has started doing it, too. She forces her leg to stop moving the moment she hears the handle of the door turn, and Dr. Pate walks in, all smiles as she reaches out to shake their hands.

"Emily, Spencer, it's good to see you again. Are you excited?" she asks, and unlike the nurse, they can tell that she is generally interested. Dr. Pate is one of those rare doctors that actually enjoys her job, actually caring about the patients' feelings, and shares the excitement they feel in becoming new parents.

She washes her hands, and dries them as she kicks the rolling stool towards the exam table, smiling the entire time. She picks of up the chart, flips through a few pages and smiles again. "So you're doing good with weight gain, it probably wouldn't hurt if you gained a little more. Your blood work looks good, blood pressure a little high, but that's normal." She gives a running commentary on her thoughts as she looks at each page, asking if Emily or Reid have any questions and answering when they do. Eventually, she sets the chart back down, and grabs a new pair of gloves. "Alright, are you ready to see what we can see?"

"Very," Emily answers, leaning back on the table and raising her shirt, giving Dr. Pate access to perform the ultra sound. Reid leans his elbows on the side of the exam table, resting his mouth against his fingers as the doctor turns on the machine and squeezes a large amount of translucent, blue gel onto Emily's exposed stomach. At first, there's nothing but a mixture of blacks, grays, and whites—too distorted to discern exactly what they're looking at.

Emily doesn't have to have it pointed out to her this time. Their little black speck has transformed over the weeks. When the obvious outline of a baby's head appears on the screen, the profile showing a small button nose, Emily's hand quickly reaches for Reid's wrist, squeezing tightly. Reid keeps still, his eyes never leaving the screen as Dr. Pate explains what they're looking at. She moves the wand to the other side of Emily's stomach, trying to get a better angle.

When Emily sees the small outline of a foot, she laughs—a short, happy laugh. She can count five toes. A few minutes later, Dr. Pate looks away from the screen, smiling a smile that would rival Garcia's. "Do you want to know the sex?"

"You can see?" Emily asks, having lost the ability to recognize the shapes on the screen. With Dr. Pate's small nod, Emily looks to Reid, and resists the knee-jerk reaction to roll her eyes when she sees the look on his face. "You already know what it is, don't you?"

A small smile forms on the corner of his mouth, but he doesn't say a word, settling instead for shrugging one shoulder. Emily wants to frown, but can't keep from smiling. "Well then one of you better tell me," she demands, though there's no harshness to her tone.

Dr. Pate uses the computer's mouse to point the curser to a small area of the screen, "It looks like you're having a girl."

Reid looks to Emily, watching her face as the words sink in. Though she's grinning, Reid can see the telltale sign of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It isn't until she squeezes his wrist again, shaking his arm that he can really see how happy she is. Her grin morphs into a full-blown smile, and she doesn't try to hide it when one of the tears makes it's way down her cheek. "We're going to have a daughter," she whispers, and once again, Reid can't tell if she meant to say it out loud.

Knowing that they had a doctor's appointment scheduled, Hotch had given them the entire day off, telling them that if something came up, he'd call them in. Doctor's appointment now out of the way, Reid and Emily slowly make their way to the parking lot, each a little high on adrenaline. Emily quickly texts Garcia, letting her know it's a girl, and then looks at her watch the moment the text is sent. Thirteen seconds is all it takes for Emily's phone to start ringing, Garcia eager to share in the excitement, and offer the future parents a truly heartfelt congratulations.

Reid is silent the majority of the car ride, only speaking up when asking Emily if Thai food is okay for lunch. Other than that and a quick call to phone in their order, he drives in silence, listening to Emily's animated joy as she speaks to Garcia and then JJ. Even after all these years, he very rarely sees Emily show true emotion.

He had caught glimpses of it when their relationship first began, most of it being unintentional. Slowly, she began to let her guard down, trusting him to see what she was feeling. However, it wasn't until they learned that they were going to have a baby that she opened up enough to reveal her emotions on a daily basis, even going so far as to share them with the rest of the team. He knows it's probably just the enormity of the situation, the fact that they're bringing another person into the world who hadn't existed before. The idea has him allowing his guard to slip on occasion; the feeling can only be stronger for Emily, who's actually carrying the baby.

She's hanging up the phone as he puts the car in park outside the small Thai restaurant that knows his name and order by heart. She's staring at the phone, fingers dancing over the smooth touch screen, and he knows she's trying to gather the strength to call her mother. "I'll be right back," he says, knowing that there's no point in trying to coerce her into making the call. When it comes to Emily's mom, he's favorable of the watch and let happen kind of approach, mostly because that's all Emily will allow.

She nods her head, letting him know she heard him, and he slips out of the car, turning once to see her bring the phone up to her ear as she lets out a heavy sigh.

The restaurant is crowded, and he sits in one of the chairs next to the door as he waits for them to finish preparing his order. His mind drifts back to Emily and her reaction to hearing about having a girl. He remembers wondering about whether or not Emily would be upset if they had a girl, but all concern was thrown out the window when she smiled as the doctor handed her a printout of the ultrasound. Apparently, Emily had forgotten that she had told Garcia that she was hoping for a boy.

Reid remembers telling Garcia that he didn't prefer one over the other, but as the man behind the counter smiles and tells him that his order's ready, he can't help feeling an overwhelming gladness that the baby's a girl. Part of him wonders if he would have felt the same had it been a boy.

He pays for the food and hurries out to the car. He climbs in and hands the bag to Emily who immediately reaches in for the small container of appetizers. "My mom says to tell you 'hi'," she says, smiling and offering no sign that the call was anything but pleasant. Reid just smiles, asking, "How's she doing?" as he starts the car, and checks his blind spots before backing out of the parking space.

He listens to Emily relay the short conversation as he eases the car into the busy street, preparing for the long ride home thanks to lunchtime rush hour in DC. He feels the adrenaline start to ease away, his body slowly relaxing into sleepiness as excitement morphs into a surreal state of being. By the time they pull onto Emily's street, he's ready to eat and sleep, despite the fact that it's still early in the afternoon.

Emily seems to make no objection as he slips off his shoes and makes his way for the bedroom after finishing off his share of the take-out. The night before had granted him little sleep, mostly thanks to the late night at the office, wanting to make sure he wouldn't get too far behind on paperwork and partly thanks to the excited anticipation he had felt at possibly knowing about the baby. He realized early on that he felt anxious each time Emily had a doctor's appointment. It was always a relief to hear that things were going okay, that their baby was healthy, that Emily was healthy, that it all isn't a dream tricking his mind into craving an alternate reality he was steadily growing to expect and couldn't live without.

Reaching for the spare blanket tossed on the foot of the bed, Reid climbs in, happily lying on his stomach as he lets the last remnants of adrenaline fall away and gives in to the welcome release of sleep.

_He never really liked the beach, there was always too much sand—weird considering he's from Vegas, a city formed right in the middle of a desert. Now, as he watches the waves come in, steadily making their way closer and closer to his bare feet with each crash of the tide, he feels the resentment towards the sand even more. _

_It's grainy, messy, and it clings to your clothes and the inside of your shoes. It's also hard to run in. It slows you down. No matter how hard you try to keep up your speed, force your muscles to move, the sand will always slow you down. It's a hindrance. _

_He looks down the beach to see Emily standing a short distance away, the waves rising to meet her feet as her face looks out towards the sea. He watches as she turns and walks away, heading towards a small bundle resting just out of reach of the approaching waves. She picks it up, and Reid realizes it's a baby. He doesn't know how he knows, he just does. Like all dreams, he knows enough, and nothing more. Morpheus was a need to know kind of guy. Emily is holding their daughter, walking further down the beach, steadily putting distance between herself and Reid. _

_Eventually, she sits down, looking once more towards the horizon before letting her eyes fall to the baby in her arms. She smiles, and Reid sees that rare glimpse of emotion she's slowly learning to reveal. She looks up and meets his eyes, grinning a smile that only speaks of joy. _

_A glimpse of movement catches his attention, forcing his eyes to move away from his family. He feels his stomach ache, a sharp pain caused by panic and worry when he sees the figure making his way towards the woman and child sitting near the waves. Reid knows this man, he watched him die. _

_He starts to move, tries to get to Emily before the other man can. The sand is slowing him down, making it difficult to run. Grey-blue eyes look at him over a lecherous smile as a hand reaches for Emily, the outline of a shamrock tattoo peeking beneath the fabric at his wrist._

Reid opens his eyes, surprised that he hadn't jumped up in bed. He doesn't know what woke him up, but he's thankful nonetheless. He can tell by the light filtering through the room's large window that he's slept for several hours, much longer than he had intended. His body is sore, but the racing of his heart forces him to give up the idea of returning to sleep, not that he was willing, anyway. One look around the room and the sound of the living room's TV lets him know that Emily is still awake.

He stands and rearranges his shirt, which had somehow managed to get twisted around his torso. Rubbing his hands over his tired face, he makes his way towards the living room. Emily's resting against one end of the couch, her feet stretched out towards the opposite end as an opened case file rests in her lap. She has the coffee table pulled up close to her, giving her easy access to the remote control and small bowl of pineapple slices sitting on top. Despite the TV being on, all her attention is focused on the file in her lap, her pen tapping on the edge of the paper as she thinks of what to write.

The sound of Reid's shuffling feet causes her to look up, smiling at the rumpled clothes and messy hair. "Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty. Did you rest okay?" she asks in between a mouthful of pineapple.

Forcing his conscious mind to ignore the nightmare that woke him from sleep, Reid stretches out his long arms, smiling as he sits on the couch, pushing Emily's feet out of the way. "Yeah, I didn't mean to sleep that long."

He looks at the TV, frowning when he doesn't recognize what she's watching. She mutes the TV, and he turns to look at her, frown increasing when he notices her scrutinizing gaze. She's studying him, and he knows it. He also doesn't like it, because, as it's been pointed out on more than one occasion, he isn't good at lying. "You don't look like you slept well." Her voice isn't accusing, but it still isn't questioning. She knows he hadn't slept well the night before, and when she had gone in the bedroom to change clothes, he had a slight crease in his brow, telling her he wasn't resting as comfortably as he should have been.

He lets the frown ease up when he notes the concern in her eyes. "It's fine. Maybe that just means that I'll sleep better tonight."

"Did you have a nightmare?"

He forces his reaction to be calm, and he's pretty impressed when he succeeds in not jerking his head to the side, flashing her with an alarmed, deer caught in headlights look at how quickly she had figured it out. "It wasn't that bad, I've had them before." He has had them before, long before he even met Emily. He's had nightmares about babies and children. It's a constant in their line of work. Nightmares had even prompted the conversation that started his relationship with Emily—it's why he isn't ashamed to admit to her that he has them.

He just hasn't had them in a while-a long time actually. And never before has his child been the one in danger.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, sitting aside the file and pushing her toes beneath the warmth of his leg.

"Not really," he answers, reading along with the closed captioning flashing across the bottom of the TV screen. Emily ignores his attempt to end the conversation, and reaches for another slice of fruit. "Was it about me?"

Reid sighs, closing his eyes before he turns to look at the woman sitting next to him. She has her both eyebrows raised questioningly, waiting for an answer. His lips quirk up in an unintentional grin, hating the way she forces him out of his comfort zone, but not minding all the same. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"Sure I will," she says, biting into the slice of pineapple, bringing her hand up to catch the juice. "As soon as you tell me what the dream was about."

Rolling his eyes, he leans back against the couch, letting his hand come up to rest on her knee. "I dreamed that Doyle went after you and the baby."

She slowly chews the last bite of the pineapple, thinking over the implications of his dream. Her instant reaction is to remind him that Doyle is dead, but she knows he already knows that. He's not worried about Ian Doyle getting them, he's worried about the next Ian Doyle. Another monster that has yet to have a face or a name. "Reid, nothing bad is going to happen."

He quirks an eyebrow at her, fighting the urge to remind her how often _bad_ things tend to happen to them and the people they know. They both have the scars to prove it. Sensing what he's thinking, Emily quickly amends her previous statement. "I know it's a possibility, but it's not something you can let keep you up at night. We're going to take care of our baby, and I can still take care of myself."

"I don't remember saying that you couldn't," he says, keeping his tone even to match hers.

"I know, that's because you're a smart guy. I'm just reminding your subconscious." She laughs and tries to pull her leg away when he squeezes at her knee. She regrets the moment he realized she was ticklish there.

"I've been telling my subconscious for years to cut me some slack, and it hasn't listened. But hey, if you think it'll listen to you, go ahead."

She reaches her hand up towards her knee, squeezing his fingers. "Reid, I know there aren't any guarantees in anything we do. I can't promise you that nothing bad will ever happen to her," she lets her other hand run across her stomach, liking that she now knows to say 'her', "But we try our best to keep her safe, learn from our mistakes and watch each other's backs."

Reid nods his head, squeezing her fingers in return. "Sounds like a plan."

"Good, 'cause it's all I got." She says, sitting forward and resting her arms on her knees.

"It's more than I had," he admits through a smile, leaning in and kissing her, tasting the pineapple.

She grabs the remote and turns the volume back on as she repositions herself on the couch, letting her weight lean against his side.

"What are you watching?" he asks, as what appears to be two teams of people crawling through a slime covered obstacle course.

"I have no idea. The TV was on for background noise." She gives him the remote and watches as he quickly turns it to the science-fiction channel, smiling when she recognizes the classic movie.

They settle in, choosing to spend the rest of their day off watching TV and eating leftovers, occasionally tuning out the TV to discuss the fact that they're having a daughter. A little girl. They talk about how spoiled she'll be, the very real likelihood that Garcia will try and influence the child's fashion sense, the fact that she'll still be able to kick but—girl or not. Neither mentions the possibility of the next Ian Doyle.

**A/N: Thanks to all the reviews. It really does motivate me to write. By the by, I'm trying really hard to get this story to the end. I'm thinking maybe five or so more chapters, the outline's still a bit rusty. **


	26. Chapter 26

**I apologize for the long wait. Funerals, the beginning of school, and weird work hours forced writing to the back burner. **

**P.S. Remember how I said I'm pretending the season finale didn't really happen? Just checking.  
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><p>The room is anything but quiet despite the fact that Emily and Reid aren't in the mood for talking. Well, to say that they aren't in the mood to listen to the other's attempted reasoning is more accurate. Emily leans back in one of the small chairs encircling the police station's small break room table, using another as a footrest. Reid continues to twirl a straw between his fingers as he rests his weight against the stained counter. Snippets of conversations taking place throughout the halls of the station drift down and echo in the small space, adding to the sound of the brewing coffee and the whine of the refrigerator.<p>

Ever since the older woman working the desk at the city morgue had commented on Emily's now obvious baby bump, asking questions about names, due dates, and what color the nursery will be, Reid and Emily have found it difficult to have a conversation without an emotion threatening to flare—mostly aggravation, anger, or annoyance.

Truthfully, they haven't thought about baby names, and at the moment it's the last thing on either of their minds, because they haven't talked about what color the nursery will be either. More precisely, they haven't talked about _where_ the nursery will be, hence the now uncomfortable situation.

Emily knows the logical answer is to empty out her guest room and put in a crib, and she can't help feeling annoyed that Reid isn't on board. Reid can't help feeling aggravated that Emily's idea makes sense, and is kind of the obvious answer to their problem if he had to admit it out loud. He knows he's being selfish, and definitely acting more than a little immature, but he can't help it. Emily hadn't asked, nor attempted to discuss the issue with him. Instead, she just automatically assumed that the spare room would be transformed into a nursery and Reid would either move in with her or continue to live at his apartment. Alone. Without her or the baby. And that's where the anger comes in.

Instead of fighting or attempting to talk it out, both had decided to keep quiet, not wanting to bring any more attention to themselves. However, after it became apparent that not only the team, but the handful of cops working with and around them over the last two days were aware that something was wrong, Emily and Reid decided they needed to talk it out.

So, now they continue to sit in the small kitchenette designated as the Mason County Sheriff Department's break room, each waiting for the other to break the silence, or better yet, give in. Emily's hoping Reid will see reason, that he'll admit there's no need for her to have to move and give up her apartment when she's really just getting used to it after settling in again.

Reid's hoping Emily will realize she's asking him to do what she doesn't want to. He understands her point of view, her reasoning for not wanting to move, but he wonders if she's even considered his.

He's lived in his apartment since graduating from Quantico. At first, it was intended to be temporary, somewhere to sleep while he looked for a better place. But then he got to know the neighborhood, the different businesses surrounding his place, and he grew attached. More importantly, he grew to know his neighbors, including the toughened, former nurse who lives across the hall. Reid understands perfectly well that Emily is tired of changing and moving, but he knows that no matter what, things will be changing anyway. Why not change altogether.

Reid knows his apartment isn't suitable for he, Emily, and a baby. There isn't enough room. He had proposed finding somewhere else to live, a place that was new to both of them, but Emily didn't want it. He had bit his tongue in order to stop himself from pointing out that she was being irrational and moody.

At some point in time, each member of the team, along with Lynette and Will had suggested it would be a good idea to not tell Emily she was being hormonal due to the pregnancy. He had been offended that they all thought he wasn't capable of figuring that out for himself. However, as he waits for the coffee to finish brewing in the small break room, he can't help thinking that they had probably been right to remind him. Especially now that Emily's being hormonal and stubborn.

Reid wouldn't mind moving in with Emily, they've been practically living with one another for nearly nine months already. His problem is that he doesn't see her place being big enough. Yes, she has a spare room that can easily be transformed to a nursery, but there isn't any room for Reid and his things.

While it's easy to find traces of him at her apartment, the place still belongs to Emily—her furniture, her choice in artwork on the wall, her TV, her bed. All of it belongs to her, Reid just shares it some nights of the week. If he were to move in with her, there would be no place for any of the things he's collected over the years.

As Emily's already pointed out, Reid doesn't have a great deal of furniture. He does however, have enough books to rival a small town library and more than enough odds and ends he's picked up from various conventions and conferences, both academically related and not. Then there's his couch. He loves his couch, it's comfortable. There's no room for that at Emily's apartment and even _he_ knows it would stick out like a sore thumb if they were to swap it out with the one Emily already has.

Reid closes his eyes as he tries to listen to a pair of detectives argue about the hiring of a new coach. He's trying to figure out whether they're talking about football or basketball when Emily decides to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I don't want to fight. I don't like fighting and I definitely do not want to fight with you," she spreads her hands out on the table, adopting a calming posture as she prepares to present her argument—again. "I think we're both capable of talking this out without yelling."

"I agree," Reid says, reaching for an empty coffee cup despite the fact that the coffee's still brewing. Emily smiles and rubs her hands over her protruding stomach before letting them rest in her lap. It's a habit she's developed over the last few weeks, and Reid hasn't pointed it out, yet.

"Okay. I propose we both give our arguments for what we want, we listen without interrupting, and then we work together to come to a workable agreement."

Reid simply nods, letting her know he hears her while he bites his lip, stopping himself from pointing out that they've already tried that—but hey, third time's a charm, right?

"I'm assuming you're wanting to go first?" Reid asks as the coffee machine beeps and begins to gurgle, adding even more noise to the mix. He looks towards the full coffee pot, watching as the last few drops drip into the carafe before turning his eyes back to Emily.

She's smiling a crooked smile, one that could easily be misinterpreted as being playful if Reid didn't know any better. Reaching for the full pot, he begins to fill his cup as he gestures for Emily to begin her argument.

Taking her cue, Emily takes a calming breath and begins counting reasons out on her fingers. "I think it would be easier if we were to change the guest room in my apartment into a nursery." She pauses, gauging his reaction. When he shows no sign of wanting to interrupt, but chooses to add sugar to his coffee, she continues.

"We can bring your stuff over to my place and you move in. You already sleep there most nights anyway." Having said what she wanted, Emily leans back in the chair, waiting for the familiar defense she's already heard twice before. However, instead of pointing out the distance between her apartment and Quantico or lease agreements, Reid proceeds to slowly stir his coffee while staring at the tiled floor as though he's hearing her proposition for the first time and is actually thinking it through.

Reid lifts the spoon and puts it in his mouth, removing any remaining remnants of sugar and coffee before dropping the utensil in the sink. He pulls out one of the remaining chairs at the small table and sits down opposite Emily, carefully thinking of a way to put his thoughts to words in a way that will show her exactly _why_ he doesn't want to move into her apartment.

"Where would we put all of my stuff?" The question catches Emily slightly off-guard. She had easily envisioned adding a few bookshelves to her apartment, one or two in the living room, another in the bedroom. Most of Reid's things belong on shelves anyway, she's never thought of there being any problem with moving his things.

"What do you mean?" she asks when she still can't see any reason for why he'd be asking the question when the answer appears, at least to her, to be so obvious.

"There isn't enough room at your place for all of my stuff. Yeah, your closet will hold everything, but what I have more than just clothes." He knows he doesn't have enough clothes to take up more than two or three drawers in her dresser and maybe a fifth of her closet. That isn't anything he's worried about. He isn't willing to give up any of his books—most are classics, originals, or gifts given to him throughout his life.

Emily seems to be thinking along the same lines as Reid. She tilts her head, puckering her lips as she squints one eye, forming the universal face of contemplation. "We could change the dining room into a library." The intonation raises at the end, creating the sense of jest, slightly easing the tension between the two that had formed over the last two days.

"But you have a dining table." Reid smirks, remembering the first few months where Emily was generally amused at Reid's lack of what she considers a basic piece of furniture.

"You know, from what I've heard," she says, keeping the welcome playfulness in her tone, "there are some people out there who manage to live without a dining room table."

Reid's smirk morphs into a soft smile as he focuses on his coffee. He wants for things to be easy, for them to flow as smoothly as they have since beginning his relationship with Emily, only he knows that they've actually hit a bump in the road. Their first. Because he knows that they both know Emily's plan isn't going to work.

Her apartment is roomy for one person, comfortable for two, but three would just be too much. Not to mention he wants something that is strictly and uniquely theirs.

He's saved from having to respond when Rossi knocks on the doorframe. "Hey, we've got another body."

Reid hurriedly takes a large gulp of his steaming coffee before dumping the majority into the sink, trying to ignore the fresh burns on his tongue. With a quick 'good-bye' to Emily, he follows Rossi out of the police station on their way to the most recent body.

The ride is relatively short considering the rural and disperse layout of the county. Twenty minutes is all it takes to get from the center of town to the dumpsite of the fourth victim, a thirty-seven year old Mary Gilbertson.

It doesn't take being a profiler to see that something's different about this one. As Reid walks by one of the deputies losing his lunch beside his cruiser, he tries to focus on the significance of the dumpsite and not on the fact that he still hasn't resolved things with Emily.

They came to Mason County, Wyoming in order to investigate a series of stranglings having taken place within a few days. While it's apparent that someone had at least attempted to strangle Mary Gilbertson, it's obvious that it wasn't the cause of death.

"He bashed her head in," Reid says, using the new information to capture his attention and push the dilemma of his future living arrangements out of his mind.

"Repeatedly," Rossi adds as he shines a flashlight on her skull, the light highlighting the broken fragments of bone along her hairline. The victim's husband reported her missing when she never showed to pick him up at the airport. It's only been seven hours since she was last seen, and she's only been dead for maybe five.

Rossi stands and shines the light over the rest of her body, taking in the disheveled state of her clothes. "He's devolving," he says unnecessarily, but Reid just nods as though it needed to be said out loud. He's making a conscious effort not to let his frustrations with Emily interfere with his work or his interactions with the rest of the team.

When it becomes apparent that they aren't going to get anymore information from the crime scene, Rossi and Reid climb up the embankment and begin to make their way to the car, neither one saying anything aside from the occasional theory on what could have happened that resulted in the unsub beating the latest victim's head in.

Reid's a little surprised when Rossi pulls off the main road and stops at a small gas station. The store looks as though it were picked right out of Mayberry, complete with fresh fruit and vegetable stands framing the glass doors displaying signs with cartoons illustrating the difference between 'push' and 'pull'. Reid can only imagine how many people have walked into the door before reading that it opens outward.

"I'm gonna gas up. Will you let the clerk know to turn the pump on?" Rossi doesn't wait for an answer, leaving Reid no choice but to get out of the car and head into the store. He passes the stands showcasing the store's best selection of apples, oranges, and tomatoes and makes sure to pull when he reaches the door.

"Good afternoon." The sight of the elderly man behind the counter makes Reid want to smile. He looks like the stereotypical grandfather, right down to his thumbs hooked on his suspenders. "What can I help you with?"

"Can you turn the pump on? My partner's gonna fill up." Reid sees the man's eyes go to the gun and badge at his hip, his smile never faltering before turning to the cash register.

"You with the FBI? Workin' on those killings?"

Reid just nods and sticks his hands in his pockets as he looks at the many shelves displaying ashtrays in the shape of the United States. "Yeah, we, uh…we're helping the Sheriff's office investigate."

"They need all the help they can get. Use to drive most of those dunderheads around back when I was a bus driver. Don't know who had the bright idea to let 'em be cops." The man snorts indignantly, and shakes his head as though he's trying to shake off a bad memory. "Bunch of trouble makers they were, the whole lot of 'em."

Reid just raises his eyebrows and gives the man a tight-lipped smile, not really sure what the appropriate response should be. He casts a glance out the window, hoping to see Rossi finishing filling up the car, but is disappointed to find him leaning against the back door, one hand still on the nozzle.

As Reid turns to look at the snow globes resting near the ashtrays, he catches sight of a crate near the front door, a familiar shape peaking over the top. As he steps closer, he smiles a little and reaches down, picking one of the pineapples from the case.

"My daughter sells those. Got a whole garden and greenhouse thing going," the man tells Reid with pride.

"They look good," Reid says as he sets the fruit on the counter, happy when he hears a chime indicating Rossi has finished fueling up. Reid gladly pays the cashier and leaves the store, pineapple in hand.

"Is that a peace offering?" Rossi asks when Reid places the fruit on the dashboard so he can buckle his seatbelt.

"What? No, it's…I don't know, she likes them." Reid stutters as he finishes buckling in. "I don't really think I need a peace offering."

Rossi just smiles as he eases the car back onto the county road. "Well, if you want advice on women, I'm more than willing to give it."

Reid finds himself matching Rossi's smile despite his best efforts not to. "No offense, but seeing how all your years of experience with women has resulted in three_ ex-_wives, I think I'll just take my chances."

Rossi quirks an eyebrow, and attempts to produce a hurt face. "You know, I remember a time when you were a lot nicer to me, almost looked up to me…"

"Yeah, I had just met you, too. Didn't really know you yet," Reid says, not falling for the kicked puppy look Rossi doesn't quite pull off. If there was any doubt that Rossi's feelings could have really been hurt, they're instantly removed the moment Reid sees the corners of Rossi's goatee crinkle up in a barely suppressed grin.

"Fine, I'll give you the whole ex-wives thing, but you have to admit, I haven't done too bad on the whole 'friend' front. At least Aaron hasn't tried to divorce me, yet."

Pushing aside the mental image Rossi's statement conjures, Reid lets his fingers run over the rough texture of the pineapple as he considers whether or not to tell Rossi why he and Emily have been out of sync the last few days.

"She wants me to move into her apartment." He keeps his eyes focused on the leaves beneath his fingers, not looking up to see Rossi's reaction.

"You don't want to live together? Don't get me wrong kid, I understand the importance of a bachelor pad, but the two of you have practically been living together from the get go."

Reid finally looks up and squints his eyes against the sun's rays. "I want to live together, just not in her apartment. And before you ask, no, I'm not wanting us to live in the cubicle I call an apartment."

"I said it _resembled _a crowded cubicle, I didn't say it _was_ one," Rossi defends. "But I'm still not seeing your point here kid."

"I think we should get a new place, both of us start over."

"And Emily doesn't want that?" Rossi asks, making certain he's following along.

"Exactly." Reid rubs both his hands over his eyes, balancing the pineapple on his knees. "She won't even consider looking at places."

For a whole two minutes, Rossi doesn't say anything. He keeps his eyes on the road and Reid begins to think he doesn't have anything to say on the matter. However, as the first building on the edge of town comes into view, Rossi slows the car down to the recommended speed limit and gives his well thought-out opinion.

"I think you both have a good argument, but I think I might sympathize with Emily a little more." Reid doesn't even try to hide his surprise and somewhat disappointment in hearing Rossi's opinion.

"You do?"

"Think about it Reid. The woman's only been back just over a year. She spent the year before that on the run, hiding. You can't blame her for not wanting to give up the safety of the familiar environment she's worked the last year to create."

Reid doesn't say anything, mostly because he can't think of any argument against it. All the reasons he had for not wanting to move in to her apartment now seem childish and selfish. Well, he was suspicious that they might have been before, but now he's certain.

He wanted to build something that was just theirs, no one else's. But now, listening to Rossi's blunt estimation of Emily's preferences, he can't help feeling that he should have abandoned his endeavor after the first argument.

He could make it work, most of his stuff is just that, stuff—not really anything that he _needs._ He'll just have to sort through it all and figure out what he can't live without. As much as he hates to admit it, he's willing to get rid of his beloved couch, at least if it'll help Emily be comfortable.

As mad as he had been about how the Doyle situation was handled, he understands that Emily hadn't had it easy while in Paris. He knows what it feels like to look over your shoulder and be afraid, to fear something you weren't entirely certain was going to come.

If giving up his couch and moving in with Emily means ensuring that she won't have to feel that, then his decision is already made. Sitting in the passenger seat watching the hustle and bustle of a tiny town at nine o'clock at night, Reid decides to just give in and give Emily what she wants.

To his credit, Rossi does a fairly decent job of keeping them from falling into an awkward silence. He thrums his fingers against the steering wheel and begins to hum an old Sinatra tune, effectively bringing a lighter air to the suddenly heavy car.

By the time they reach the station, the humming as morphed into a combination of singing and whistling. Reid gratefully pushes the door open and climbs out of the car. When Rossi, reaches the door first, stepping back and holding it open so Reid can enter, Reid stops and says, "Thanks, Rossi." He means it to be for more than just holding the door.

When Rossi says, "No problem", he means it the same way.

Reid wastes no time walking his way back to the small kitchenette. He searches the numerous cabinets until he finds an empty sour cream bowl and a knife. Taking care not to cut his fingers, he steadily works to cut away the outside of the pineapple before slicing the rest into nice circular pieces.

When he walks into the conference room, he hands Emily the bowl, smiling at the look of confusion on her face when she sees the picture of a cow holding a sign for sour cream.

"Oh, I love you," she whispers when she sees what's actually in the bowl, earning a laugh from the rest of the team as she picks up one of the slices and proceeds to eat it with her fingers.

Apart from discussing the details of the case, Reid doesn't say anything else to Emily until they're back at the hotel. It's late and he's already dropped his bag and copies of the files off on his bed when he decides to knock on Emily's door.

She opens the door and he smiles as he's once again reminded how much has changed within the last few months. She's wearing one of the large, men's t-shirts she bought two weeks before when it became obvious that she was either going to have to buy more clothes or start sleeping naked. The shirt normally would hang to her knees, but thanks to the noticeable bulge of her belly, the bottom rises a few inches above.

He knows she's wearing a pair of shorts beneath the shirt, the waistband rolled up below her baby bump. She's got a toothbrush in her hand and her hair is haphazardly pulled up into a bun. They've only been back at the hotel for ten minutes, yet she's wasted no time in getting comfortable. Before the pregnancy, she would walk around her room still dressed for the office until minutes before getting into bed.

"Hey," she says around a mouthful of toothpaste, stepping back so he can enter the room. "What's up?"

Reid watches her go into the bathroom to spit and rinse. He waits until the water finishes running before he starts speaking. "Nothing in particular."

She walks out of the bathroom wiping her mouth with a washcloth before dropping it on top of a used towel. "Thanks for the pineapple today. I was actually craving one."

"Yeah, because it had probably been a _whole five minutes_ since you had last had one," he says sarcastically, smiling when she pushes against his shoulder indignantly.

"Five minutes or not, it was still appreciated."

"Well, just think of it as a peace offering." Reid decides to use Rossi's words, not finding any better.

"Peace offering?" She says it slowly as though she's trying to find a context in which it would make sense.

"Yep, for me being stubborn."

"Spencer Reid being stubborn? _Never_." Reid just rolls his eyes at her mock look of shock.

"It's been known to happen on occasion," he says, once again enjoying the easiness of talking to her.

"Sure, _occasionally_. But why exactly a peace offering? Do you think you've found an agreeable truce?" She takes a step towards the bed, feeling the butterflies because she doesn't want to start a fight again, doesn't want to end the comfortable mood.

"Sort of," he answers her, kicking at a loose thread hanging from the bed's comforter. When he looks up, he sees her staring at him expectantly. Smiling he shrugs his shoulders and says, "I guess we can turn your dining room into a small library." He figures that's a better way of saying he's agreeing to move in, even though he has no intention of actually forcing her to change her dining room. The books will just have to go somewhere else.

She sits for a moment, taking in the implications of what he's saying. Slowly her eyes widen excitedly and she feels the muscles in her arms start to shake and tingle with extra energy. She fights the urge to punch her hands in the air like Garcia had done the night of the pregnancy test, choosing instead to wrap her arms around Reid's neck, hugging him tightly despite the awkward position of her stomach between them.

"Are you sure?" she asks, leaning back to look him in the eye. "What made you change your mind?" She doesn't even wait for an answer before she hugs him again, this time a little less enthusiastically.

"More or less, I had it pointed out that I was being selfish." He wraps his arms around her as she rests her head on his shoulder, letting her fingers play with the curls at the back of his neck.

"Rossi?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

"Isn't it always?" They slowly start to move, sort of like a pair of twelve year olds at their first school dance.

"I can't say he was completely right. I was being selfish, too," she admits, closing her eyes as they start to sway from side to side.

"Maybe, but it still doesn't change the fact that it would be easier to just stay at your place." After Reid conceded to giving in, it was easier for him to see the benefits. "I mean, who wants to go look all over the city when your six and half months pregnant?"

"Not me," she answers with a laugh, the sound muffled by his shoulder. "It'd be easier to tote around a bowling ball all day."

"A bowling ball's heavier than the baby," Reid points out, letting his hand rest on the side of her stomach when he feels the baby kick.

"Yeah, but you can set a bowling ball down," she counters, and Reid has no choice but to agree.

They continue their slow dance to the tune of the room's air conditioner, discussing the different ways they can rearrange the apartment in order to accommodate Reid's belongings before they both decide to go to sleep.

Reid doesn't go back to his room, choosing instead to climb into Emily's bed, falling back into that comfortable peace he's missed the last few days.

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><p><strong>I'm only seeing a few more chapters. I <em>really<em> don't want this to go over thirty chapters. The next won't take so long. Promise.**

**Reviews are lovely and they make me feel good. It's the truth, why lie?  
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	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: You can blame all of this on Tannerose5(aka lolyncut). I wasn't planning on doing any more whumping, but she asked about it and the thought wouldn't go away. But thanks to her, I now have the longest chapter yet and a completed outline for the remainder of the story. (I'm thinking two more chapters?)**

**(p.s. I'm not a doctor. I don't pretend to be. I really don't need corrected on the whole medical reality mumbo jumbo.) That being said, I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter.  
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><p>Mason County doesn't offer a lot in terms of diversity. Hatt Hill, being the largest town in Mason County is home to the Mason County Sheriff Department as well as the Pins and Stripes Bowling Alley and Roller Rink, Harrison's Bar and Grill, and the Hatt Hill Wildcats, two time Division Three girl's softball champions.<p>

However, if anyone were to ask about the small town of Hatt Hill in Mason County, Wyoming, they would immediately start talking about the Mason County Strangler and the fact that, despite the FBI's presence, he still hasn't been caught.

"They do realize we _just_ got here, right?" Morgan tosses the morning newspaper on the diner's tabletop, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the headline criticizing the police's efforts. "It's not like the guy's walking around with a sign advertising that he likes strangling women in his spare time."

"Why is this bugging you so much? This isn't the first time we've been called out?" Emily asks, between sips of her orange juice. She had woken up early, the baby moving too much for her to go back to sleep. She had quickly gotten dressed, leaving Reid in bed and coming to the diner to find Morgan already nursing his second cup of coffee.

Morgan shakes his head, shrugging off the bad start to the morning. He needs his head on straight, because they're supposed to meet with the coroner and get the autopsy results of the latest victim in three hours. "So, you're in a good mood. Did you and Pretty Boy finally work out what ever problems you had?"

Looking toward the kitchen's door in search of the waitress and her order of cheesy hash browns, Emily smiles and starts thrumming her fingers on the tabletop as she sees the waitress making her way towards them. "Yep. He's gonna move into my place."

"That's what you two were fighting about?"

"We weren't fighting," she defends, pointing her finger at him from across the table. "We just couldn't agree."

Morgan looks at her incredulously, one eyebrow arched high. "Seriously?" Emily shrugs one shoulder, choosing not to answer in favor of testing her newly arrived hash browns.

"Why didn't Reid want to move in with you?" Morgan asks, not wanting to drop the subject. He usually tries to stay out of his friends' business, but she brought it up, so he sees no reason not to continue.

"He wanted to move in with me, just not in my apartment." She takes a moment to appreciate the cheesy goodness of her breakfast before continuing. "He wanted to find a new place."

"And you didn't?" Emily looks up from her plate, surprised at the tone of Morgan's question.

"It makes sense to just bring all of his stuff to my place. Do you know how hard it is to find a decent place to live in D.C.?"

"Is that the only reason you don't want to look?" Morgan asks, making Emily remember to bite back the whole 'don't profile me' retort usually offered when someone hits a little too close to the truth. She should have known better. Morgan's always told her like it was, never bothering to sugar coat it, especially when it comes to Reid.

"Is it not a good reason?" She puts her fork down, looking Morgan squarely in the eyes. "No, it's a good reason. I'm just wondering if it's the only one, because to me," he makes sure to keep eye contact, leaning forward as he does so, "it seems like you may have other reasons."

She picks her fork back up and starts rearranging the hash browns, twirling the cheese around with the fork. "I've had to move a lot in the past few years. I'm finally getting comfortable where I am," she admits, keeping her voice low in case anyone may be listening.

Morgan nods, accepting her answer for the truth. "Do you think that you may be getting comfortable because Reid's there? Because, Emily, you were there for a while before you and he started up."

Emily stares at him, wishing she hadn't brought it up. She should have just said 'yes' when he asked if she and Reid were okay. But as she thinks about it, she starts to realize that he may be right. Maybe she's not comfortable with her place, but she's comfortable with Reid, because if she thinks about it, she's spent just as much time at his place as she has hers since getting together. Hell, he's even made room for her cat, something she thought would never happen.

"I hate you," she says with a smile, resuming her breakfast. He just smiles in return, reaching across and stealing a bite with his own fork.

"Nah, I think you just hate that I'm right."

"Same difference."

"So," he begins after the waitress refills his coffee for the third time, "When are we gonna start the whole moving process?"

"I don't know. It needs to happen before the baby gets here. The last thing I want is to try and rearrange everything with a newborn."

"You know, I'm pretty good at the whole rearranging thing. I could come by after we get back and help the two of you sort it all out. Help with some new shelves, extending a wall, whatever."

"You'd be willing to do that?" She asks, already thinking of ways to make more room in order to accommodate Reid's things. "You'd spend your free time helping us redecorate?"

"Yeah I would. You are two of my closest friends. The least I can do is help you get settled." He reaches for another bite of hash browns. "You guys decide what you want done, buy the material, and I'll see if I can do it."

"Thanks, Morgan. I'll probably end up taking you up on that." Emily smiles as the diner's door opens and the bell overhead chimes. Her smile fades when she sees the serious look on both Hotch and Reid's faces.

Hotch orders a coffee to go before walking to the table. "There's been another one," he says, effectively ending Emily's breakfast. "She left to get dinner last night, never came back home. Roommate reported her missing this morning when she found her car abandoned at the restaurant."

"They find her body?" Emily asks, trying to scoot out of the booth without hitting her stomach.

"Not yet," he answers, accepting his coffee from the waitress. "But if the timeline fits…"

"Then she's already dead," Morgan finishes. "Especially if he's devolving."

Emily accepts Reid's offered hand in getting out of the booth, it hasn't gotten to the point that it's needed, but it's still appreciated. She takes a large sip of her orange juice and pays for her unfinished breakfast before following the others out of the diner.

* * *

><p>Garcia's on the phone, sleepily relaying all the information she's managed to find on the missing woman since her early wake up call after a mere three hours of sleep. Despite learning a biography's worth of information on Carrie Hudson, Garcia still isn't able to find any connection between the victims, proving the team's early assumption that the unsub's choosing them at random.<p>

"It's never easy, is it?" Emily asks after hanging up the phone, moving to position her chair to sit directly beneath the air vent in the 'boiler room', the name she assigned to the small workspace set aside for the BAU. She swears the last time she was in Wyoming, it wasn't this hot. She tosses her jacket onto the table and plops down into the padded rolling chair, bracing her feet to keep it from rolling away from the newly achieved position beneath the only source of cool air in the room.

"If it were easy, I don't think we'd be here." Reid continues to study the map laid out before him, looking as though he isn't bothered in the least by the stifling heat. "You could open a window," he says, seeing Emily grab the front of her shirt and attempt to fan herself.

"It's just as hot out there, Reid." She says, closing her eyes as she adds a folder to her efforts.

"Yeah, but it's breezy. If you open those two," he points to two windows on opposing walls, "You'd create a cross breeze. It'd be a lot more effective than what you're doing." Without waiting for a response, he stands and crosses the room, opening one of the windows. When he opens the second, Emily immediately feels the effects.

"That—that right there," she gestures between the two windows, and then points to Reid's head, indicating his brain. "That is why I love you."

Reid tilts his head, and takes on a mocking pout face he had learned from Garcia. "So it isn't because of my personality?"

"Nope," Emily smiles, "That's just icing on the cake."

Reid bends down and kisses her on top of her head before returning to his seat. "And I love you for your blunt honesty."

"I thought it was in spite of it?"

"In spite of what?" JJ asks as she enters the room and hands Reid and Emily each a new folder, the county morgue's logo emblazoned on the front. She's wearing a fitted t-shirt and her hair's pulled back in a tight ponytail, the gun at her hip being the only thing stopping her from looking like one of the college students at the local community college.

"Nothing," Emily dismisses, accepting the folder containing the results of the last victim's autopsy.

"It's like an oven. You've got to be miserable," JJ says to Emily as she takes a seat next to Reid. "My entire last trimester, it felt like I was walking through a never ending sauna."

"I'm there, trust me." Emily pulls a hair band out of her jacket pocket, and starts to pull her long strands up and off her neck.

JJ nods sympathetically. "Just be glad there isn't any humidity."

Reid's phone rings, ending the conversation. He answers with his usual greeting, his eyes still running over the opened file in front of him. Emily leans forward when she sees his eyes stop, all of his attention being focused on what the caller is telling him. "There's no way to tell where it's from?" he asks into the phone, nodding along despite the caller not being able to see. "Alright, I'll see you when you get here."

He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the table before running a tired hand through his hair. "They found Carrie Hudson. She was strangled and her head was bashed in, but they found something that looks like dust all over her body. Morgan says it looks like it could possibly be from drywall."

Reid leans back in his chair, rubbing his knuckles over his chin as he pulls on his thinking face, the Garcia dubbed 'smart pout'. "Didn't the first victim work for a realty company?"

"Yeah, as a _realtor_, she wouldn't have been involved in construction," Emily points out. "And drywall can be found in almost every home and business in this county. It could just be a coincidence."

"Or it could help us find our unsub. Sometimes realtors oversee renovations. They're in charge of hiring the contractors, the labor..." Reid trails off as he reaches for his cell phone.

Garcia answers on the first ring. "Please tell me you have something, because I've got nada."

"Can you look and see what listings our first victim had in her books, and then see if any of those recently had construction done on them?"

"Reid, are we fixing to have us a jinkies moment?" she asks, the sound of keys typing being heard through the phone's speaker.

"Jinkies?" Reid asks, earning amused looks from JJ and Emily, who hadn't heard Garcia's inquiry.

"You know, where you do that whole Velma and Scooby thing, you follow—JINKIES!"

She suddenly yells, causing Reid to pull the phone back from his ear. "She had five listings posted at the time of her death, one underwent a complete renovation. It was completed three days before her disappearance."

"Can you get us a list of everyone involved in the renovation?"

"Yes, but it's gonna take a minute. I'll call you back." Reid hears the click followed by a dial tone as Garcia hurries to do what he's asked.

"None of the other victims are tied to the realty company, and from what I can see, they wouldn't be tied to any of the contractors." JJ pulls the handful of files spread out on the table towards her. She wants to keep an open mind instead of jumping ahead and focusing all of the team's attention on Reid's theory. Though Reid tends to be right a great deal of the time, it doesn't hurt to have someone to play Devil's advocate.

"They wouldn't if they were chosen at random. But what if the first victim wasn't random? What if he chose Maria for a reason?" The more Emily thinks about it, the more Reid's theory makes sense. It's not uncommon for serial killers to commit their first murder in a passionate act of rage, only to change and adapt their skills and victim choice with each kill.

JJ holds up her hand, calling attention to herself as she reads through the file of the second victim. "Ashley Kimbrell worked at Home Depot. If our unsub's into construction, he could have run across Ashley while buying supplies." She hates to admit it, but sometimes playing Devil's advocate against a genius is hard.

When Garcia calls back, Reid answers the phone before the first ring even finishes. "Okay, she used two different contractors. One in charge of the outside and landscaping, and one in charge of the interior renovations. There's at least twenty men listed here."

"Twenty's a better number than we were working with before," JJ tells her, although her voice doesn't show confidence.

"Before you even ask, I've already run these guys through the system. There's a few drug charges, a few thefts, nothing that stands out and screams psycho, but then again it rarely does," Garcia informs them, pulling her hair back in an impromptu bun and using a feathered pen to keep it in place. "I've sent you the list, but I'll keep looking to see if I find anything. Ciao my babies."

As Reid pulls out the laptop to bring up the files Garcia sent, Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi walk in, each looking as though the heat's getting to them as well. Morgan's wearing his usual t-shirt, currently untucked. Hotch and Rossi have each lost their jackets, having rolled up the sleeves to their shirts, ties gone, and collars open.

Reid, Emily, and JJ quickly explain their theory, updating them on the information Garcia had found. A quick run to the break room for a couple of bottles of water, and the whole team sets down to try and eliminate some of the men listed as having worked with the contractors.

Sometimes, the team gets lucky; a random, seemingly inconsequential tidbit of information usually causes a name to jump out off the page, revealing itself as belonging to the unsub. Sometimes, it doesn't work that way. After the third time sorting through the names, they are only able to eliminate two names, leaving eighteen possible suspects.

"And that's if our guy's even on this list." Rossi leans his head back, trying to relieve the tension in his neck. Emily stands, the pressure on her bladder forcing her to take a break.

"You okay their Princess? That's like the third time you've gone to the bathroom today," Morgan laughs. Emily simply extends her middle finger by way of an answer, earning a roomful of chuckles.

For some reason, the restroom seems to be one of the most air conditioned rooms in the whole building. Emily wets a paper towel and runs it along the back of her neck, enjoying the welcomed reprieve from the heat she's beginning to find synonymous with the name Mason County.

She stops at a drink machine, and buys a bottle of orange juice before making her way back to the boiler room. The flurry of movement catches her by surprise, mostly because when she left less than ten minutes before, half the team was struggling to keep their eyes open. Two deputies are standing in the doorway.

"Garcia found that Martin Harris was issued a traffic violation last night, his service truck didn't have any tail lights," Morgan starts to explain. "It was across the street from Greenetop Bar-B-Q, the same restaurant where Carrie Hudson's car was abandonded."

"Is Harris on the list?" she asks, already knowing the answer based on the rapidly emptying room.

"Third from the bottom," Rossi answers, clapping her on the shoulder as he walks out the door.

Sometimes the team just gets lucky.

"He has no permanent address listed, but there's a secluded property listed in his mother's name on the edge of town. I want you to stay in contact with Garcia. Where taking a couple of deputies and going to check it out," Hotch tells her before following Rossi out the door.

Emily turns to Reid, grabbing his arm to catch his attention as he grabs a handful of papers from the table. "Be careful," she whispers.

Reid gives her a quick kiss, and squeezes her arm in return. "I will." She turns and watches him leave, the two deputies giving her identically surprised looks as they step out of Reid's way. Apparently, not everyone was aware of Emily and Reid's relationship.

Emily just smiles as she sits down at the now empty table.

"Um, Agent? We're going to be listening in on the radios. You're welcome to join us if you'd like." The youngest of the two deputies offers, and Emily figures she can keep in contact with Garcia just as well from the small command center as she can from the boiler room.

Grabbing her orange juice and a few of the files, she stands and walks to the door. "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>If the traffic ticket near the last known whereabouts of the last victim wasn't a big clue that Martin Harris is most likely the unsub, then the large, vacant building currently boarded up for remodeling under his mother's name definitely is. However, the cincher, or as Garcia would say, the big jinkies moment has to be the lone black stiletto lying abandoned next to the opened tailgate of Harris's work truck, conveniently parked outside the back entrance to the building.<p>

The team immediately splits up; Hotch, Morgan, JJ, and a deputy going in the back, while Rossi, Reid, and a second deputy take the front. The two-story building, while looking large and significant from outside, is more than intimidating once inside. The majority of the building has been gutted, the entire floor of the second story stripped away, revealing rafters and random two-by-fours laid haphazardly across the sections. Large support beams, rickety scaffoldings, and tarps are spread out throughout the building, each room resembling the overcrowded storage closet of a hands-on architectural school.

Rossi leads the way, quickly turning and leading Reid and the deputy to a series of rooms, clear plastic sheets replacing the doors and parts of the walls. Rossi signals for them to split up, and Reid instantly goes left, leaving the deputy and Rossi to take the remaining two rooms.

A few ladders and extra building materials are all Reid finds before quickly coming to a dead end. He doubles back, returning to the point where he and the others had last split up. Despite the team's best efforts to be quiet, Reid can still hear movement coming throughout the building, the ridiculous amount of construction materials arbitrarily tossed about making it difficult to maneuver without making some type of sound.

If he can hear them, he knows the unsub can, especially if he's paranoid and on the lookout.

Reid hears a loud thud coming from the other side of one of the plastic pseudo-walls. He readies his gun, keeping it pointed to the ground in case he comes across a member of his team as he quickly pulls the plastic back, revealing another room of chaos.

Making his way through the large pipes and wooden boards stacked around the room, the term hoarder comes to Reid's mind, only the man collects building materials, and stores them in his mother's eviscerated property.

Reid stops when he sees the outline of a familiar boot lying amongst the dusty floor. He raises his gun, following his line of sight as he takes in the prone form of his partner lying between a broken ladder and a stack of empty buckets.

He can see a small cut on the back of Rossi's head, most likely from where he was hit from behind. Reid brings up his hand, pulling the small microphone attached to his earpiece towards his mouth. He attempts to alert the team, "officer down," but the words barely make it out of his mouth before he's pulled from behind.

Strong hands hold tightly to a frayed rope as it pulls against Reid's neck, cutting off his air supply, and knocking him off balance. As his legs give out beneath him, the man choking him pulls harder against the rope, forcing Reid backwards, away from Rossi.

He tries to call out for help, but the lack of air makes it near impossible to breathe, let alone get enough air in to yell for his team's attention.

He can't see Rossi now, the unsub has pulled him far enough away. He's suddenly aware that he doesn't have his gun, he must have dropped it when the man first attacked. He sees his feet kicking out against the assault, trying to ground himself in order to get better control over his body. However, the fight or flight instinct, that panic inducing adrenaline is forcing the logical part of his brain to rebel.

He knows he's probably making noise, he hopes he is, but all he's aware of is the pounding in his ears, and the feeling of the man behind him, pulling him farther away.

The edges of the building start to blur, the sharp outlines of the overcrowded storage room begin to soften, blending together into a sea of dingy colors.

In a last attempt effort to stop what he knows is happening, to stop the man from killing him, Reid kicks out towards one of the wooden slats holding up a makeshift scaffold. He expects for the crash to draw the attention of his teammates. What he doesn't expect is the domino effect that follows the dislodging of the scaffold.

The last thing Reid's aware of before the remains of the second floor crash down on top of him and his attacker, is the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of the rope against his neck.

* * *

><p>Emily's worried. She always is when the team goes out in the field, even more so when she's left behind—something she's only recently learning. It's an unconscious reaction, her mind unwillingly going through the worst-case scenarios, preparing for the what-if.<p>

However, she knows there's a large possibility that Martin Harris won't even be at the address the team had left to check out. The Kevlar and extra manpower had been just in case. She knows Garcia has a line open to the team members, she'll call if anything happens, she always does. That and the fact that Emily can hear the deputies' transmissions over the radio help keep her calm, keep her grounded as she waits for news.

The short static followed by a breathless call for back up destroys all of Emily's attempts to remain grounded. "What's happening?" She asks the deputy who had invited her to listen in. "What are they saying?"

The deputy ignores her, choosing instead to follow through and dispatch the few remaining units out to the address given to them, to where Emily's team had gone less than an hour before.

Hearing the deputy call for an EMT and fire and rescue, Emily gives up on trying to be patient. She grabs her cell phone and dials Garcia, annoyed when she doesn't answer immediately, panicked because it means the tech's probably busy elsewhere.

"Garcia, what's going on?" She asks, the request sounding more like a plea than a demand. Garcia's shaky "Emily," does nothing to calm her nerves.

"Penelope, _what happened_?" She's watching the deputy continue to talk into the radio. When he turns and looks at her sympathetically, his eyes momentarily dropping to her extended belly, she knows her earlier worries are justified. "It's Reid isn't it? Is he okay?"

"Baby… they don't know, yet." Emily hears the tears and worry in Garcia's voice. "They're working on getting him out."

"Out? Out of where? Will someone please tell me what the hell happened?"

"Part of the building collapsed. I don't know everything, Morgan called and said the unsub got the drop on 'em and that Reid was trapped. Sweetie, I'd tell you more if I knew, but—"

"Don't worry about it. I'm on my way." Emily cuts Garcia off, already searching for a set of car keys, for some way to get to them.

"I don't think there's anything you can do there. Emily just wait where you are, I'll keep the line open, you'll know everything that's happening." Garcia tries to talk sense into her friend, already knowing the worry and concern will win out over logic.

"I'll call you when I'm there," Emily says as she hangs up the phone. When she finds no extra keys at her ready, she turns to the sympathetic deputy. "I need you take me to the scene." When he doesn't move but chooses to look at her as though she's lost her mind, she snaps—just a little. "Look, either get off your ass and drive me or give me the damn keys and I'll drive myself. Either way, I'm going."

"You can ride with me." An older man in a suit, a detective's badge on his hip, offers. Emily accepts immediately, gripping her phone tightly as she follows him to the unmarked car waiting outside.

The scene is complete chaos. Police cruisers, ambulances, and fire trucks surround the building. It looks normal from outside, the roof still intact. As Emily hurries to one of the waiting ambulances, she wonders what part caved in.

"Have you found him yet?" She asks JJ, who's standing beside Rossi as a paramedic looks at the back of his head.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Rossi demands, ignoring the medic's attempts to keep his head angled down so she can see the small gash.

Emily ignores him, keeping her attention on JJ. "Have you found him yet?" she repeats.

"They're digging him out," JJ tells her, her tone tired. Emily can see her friend's red-rimmed eyes, a sign that she's fighting off the tears. "They're having to move slowly so they don't risk hurting him."

"What about Harris?" Emily asks, vaguely remembering that he's the cause of all of this.

When JJ darts her eyes to Rossi, Emily swears she can physically feel her blood pressure start to rise. "Quit treating me like I'm about to break." She says it calmly, but the anger and fear in her eyes lets JJ know that she's anything but calm.

"He's trapped with Reid."

Emily stares at her friend, the implications of that simple statement causing her chest to tighten. "How did this happen?" Again her voice is calm, almost a whisper as she looks from one team mate to the next, begging them to tell her what she wants to know.

JJ licks her lips, her hands fidgeting in front of her momentarily before dropping down to her sides. Emily sees the moment JJ decides to tell her, she sees the professional mask slip on, the one her friend uses when she's about to tell a family member something they don't want to hear.

"We don't know everything, but Morgan and Hotch saw Harris strangling Reid just before the upper floor fell in."

"But he was moving right? I mean, Reid was still alive when it fell?"

"Yes, he was still alive."

Emily tries to focus on that bit of information, on the fact that Reid was alive before he was buried by debris, instead of visualizing a serial killer trying to strangle him to death. She feels her heart speed up, her breathing pick up despite her determination to remain calm.

"Have they heard anything from him? Can they tell if he's conscio—" she's cut off by a sharp pain beginning in her lower abdomen and radiating through her back. She reaches out, grabbing onto Rossi's forearm, squeezing tight as the pain continues.

"Emily?" JJ's reaching forward as Rossi tries to stand, each grasping on to Emily's shoulders.

"Emily you need to calm down." Rossi's already moving away from the ambulance, looking to the paramedic whose attention is now focused on the woman threatening to hyperventilate and scrunching her face in pain.

"Ma'am, I need you to sit down for me." Emily tries to bat away the oxygen mask, but Rossi's hand on her wrist stops her.

"Let her look you over, kiddo." Emily tries not to panic, she hates all the emotional stuff. But she's in pain, and she's not supposed to be. She feels the baby moving, but Reid's buried inside some stupid building with a freaking psychopath who had tried to strangle him. She feels the sting of the tears before she's even aware that she was supposed to fight them back.

She hears JJ lean down to tell her something, but another sharp pain blocks out all other stimuli. She tries to breathe through it, but ends up crying out instead.

"How far along is she?" she finally hears the medic ask. The fact that the medic isn't asking her tells Emily she had probably already tried.

"About thirty-one weeks," JJ answers for her.

The next thing Emily knows, Morgan's standing beside Rossi, a concerned frown etched on his face. _When did he get here?_ He's covered in dust from head to toe.

"We're gonna take her to the hospital," the medic begins to explain as Rossi helps Emily into the ambulance, climbing in beside her. Emily's starting to hate that they're talking about her as though she can't hear, but she figures the fact that she hasn't answered them should justify their actions.

"What about Reid?" she manages to say, the question muffled by the oxygen mask embarrassingly still on her face.

"He's gonna be okay, Emily. I'll call Rossi the moment we know anything," Morgan promises before looking to Rossi.

"And I'll do the same," Emily hears Rossi say before the doors are closed and her attention is forced back to the medic taking her blood pressure.

* * *

><p>Reid isn't sure if it's difficult to breathe because of all the dust and stifling heat, or because of the damage done by the rope still wrapped around his neck. There's no tension anymore, the rope lying loosely across his throat, he just can't move it because he can't get his arms out from under whatever's pinning them down.<p>

He's coughing, another reason he's finding it difficult to breathe, that and the panic at being buried alive, because whether he likes it or not, that's exactly what's happened.

He remembers seeing the scaffold start to fall, immediately followed by one of the railings crisscrossing what used to be the second story floor. He knows he must have passed out, because he doesn't remember actually falling, or more importantly, he doesn't remember the man that had been in the process of trying to kill him releasing his hold on the rope still lying against his neck or being buried beneath the falling debris.

Reid tries to focus on taking deep, even breaths, on not letting the panic take control. He can still feel the man behind him, Martin Harris, that's his name. He's found their unsub-again. He usually does. Reid can feel the man's chest rise and fall, deep and even—a sure sign that he's unconscious.

Reid tries to call out, but the lack of breath and burning pain in his throat produce nothing more than a harsh whisper, surely muffled by the large amount of debris burying him and the Mason County Strangler.

He feels the moment Martin Harris wakes up, the sudden gasp stopping the even breaths. Reid senses the panic immediately as Harris realizes what's happened. The man starts to thrash around, or as close to thrash as he can considering he's pinned beneath the same debris trapping Reid.

The man's panicked attempts to get out, jars Reid's body, defeating Reid's careful attempts not to move. A white-hot pain shooting through his leg tells Reid that his plan not to move had been a good idea, while simultaneously making him wonder if he had been shot again.

"Somebody, help me! Get me out of here!" Martin Harris begins to scream, having no problem getting in air. Reid's grateful that the guy's calling for help, being unable to so himself, but he can't help wondering if the man remembers that he's wanted for multiple murders, or if the people he's calling out to are a team of FBI agents intent on arresting him.

Reid keeps still, focusing on his breathing while trying not to bring attention to himself. Martin Harris has control of at least one arm, while both of Reid's are trapped. If Harris wants to finish what he started, Reid would be in no position to defend himself.

Reid hears the sounds of people trying to get to them, people calling out to him. Martin Harris continues to yell for help, guiding the rescuers in the right direction. He knows they're close when he feels the debris begin to shift, causing more pain in his leg and pressure on his stomach.

Reid has no idea how long has passed, how long he was unconscious for, but he knows it was too long when he finally sees light, quickly followed by an unfamiliar face wearing a fireman's helmet. "Try not to move. We're getting you out," the fireman says, and Reid wishes that Martin Harris would freaking listen to the man.

Instead, he continues to yell, going so far as to threaten the man if he doesn't hurry. Reid's pretty sure you shouldn't piss off the people that are trying to save your life. It's probably one of those unwritten rules—right up there with 'Don't mess with the people who handle your food.'

"Martin Harris, shut up and keep still!" Morgan's familiar voice, complete with his patented pissed-off growl, echoes down through the debris.

"Reid, are you okay?" Hotch asks, appearing next to the fireman and Morgan as they work to clear away the boards and ladders still holding him down.

Reid intends to say 'yes, I'll be better when you get me out of here,' but all he can manage is a painful coughing fit. Apparently, that's good enough for Morgan, because he reiterates the fireman's earlier advice, reinforcing it with another threat to Harris.

The pressure on Reid's body slowly begins to ease as the opening becomes larger, the majority of the building materials having been removed. Hotch reaches down and places an oxygen mask over Reid's face, and Reid sucks it in greedily, finally able to take in a lungful of air for the first time since the entire ordeal began.

"Rossi?" he asks after catching his breath.

"He's good. He's already at the hospital with Emily," Morgan tells him. Reid closes his eyes as dust is stirred with the movement of each board.

When enough of the debris is moved out of the way that they can finally see the extent of the damage, Morgan breathes a small sigh of relief. It's not as bad as he thought, or at least it doesn't look as bad. Reid's breathing has evened out, and the there doesn't appear to be an abundance of blood.

He does however see the makings of what promise to be some pretty impressive bruising along his friend's arms and jaw line, little cuts and scrapes litter his face and arms. What bothers Morgan the most is the sight of Reid's neck. The rope had rubbed the skin raw, resulting in numerous, painful looking abrasions, highlighted by already darkening bruising.

As Hotch and the fireman work to remove what looks like the remains of a bucket full of cement, Reid's sudden gasp of pain stops Morgan's inspection of Reid's obvious wounds. "Reid?"

"My leg…" Reid presses his lips together, breathing in the extra oxygen through his nose. Morgan helps Hotch and the fireman clear away the last few remnants of the ceiling's collapse, revealing an awkwardly angled converse sneaker.

"Damn," Morgan mutters, looking up to see Hotch's equally concerned gaze. "Reid, man, it's definitely broken. Just hang tight, we're gonna get you out."

"What about me?" Martin Harris has waited as patiently as he's capable. He stopped talking when Agent Morgan had gracefully pointed a gun at him, daring him to continue complaining, but this is getting a bit much. Isn't there a law against police brutality? Shouldn't they be working just as hard to get him out, as they are the skinny guy?

Hotch and Morgan both ignore Harris's indignant plea, choosing instead to study the area they had just cleared away. "We can get a couple of backboards in here, lift him up and carry him over," the fireman suggests, already signaling someone to fetch the required boards.

Reid ignores the embarrassment he feels at the situation in which he finds himself. He's too grateful to be able to breath again, for the feeling of open space to worry about having to be carried out on a backboard. The dust had settled with his sweat, covering him in a grimy paste. He wants a shower, for his leg to stop hurting, and to see Emily.

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><p>Emily stares up at the ceiling, counting the little bumps decorating each tile. It's been over three hours since JJ arrived in her room, promising that Reid is fine. He needs surgery to fix his ankle, but there's nothing seriously wrong with him.<p>

It's been over three hours since JJ took up the seat next to Rossi, who hasn't left her side since she was admitted. She hates the entire situation. Reid's in surgery and she's stuck in bed after having been thoroughly warned about the dangers of getting up.

She's hooked up to multiple IVs, a combination of meds the doctors tell her will stop the contractions, or so they expect. The fact that she hasn't felt one in a while lets her hope that the IVs worked. The last few hours have been spent alternating between worrying about Reid and worrying about their daughter.

They've got her reclined in bed, a monitor strapped around her stomach, and she can't remember if the doctors had said it was to monitor her contractions or the baby's heart rate. Looking back up at the ceiling, she realizes it's not really that important whether she knows or not. As long as the doctors do, she's fine. Reid's going to be fine. The contractions seemed to have stopped, so her and her baby are going to be fine.

She remembers them giving her something, a clear liquid that was supposed to help calm her down. Listening to Rossi's steady breathing, she wonders if pregnant women can even have Valium. Maybe it wasn't Valium, but a special kind of don't-give-a-care shot formulated for when pregnant women go into stressed induced premature labor.

That diagnosis had not been what she wanted to hear. It wasn't until after she was assured that Reid as still alive, despite a busted ankle and sore throat that she was able to focus on what that diagnosis would detail. Now, with a slightly clearer head, and a lot less worry, she realizes it's nothing good.

The doctor had already told her, and she knows it's only a matter of time before Hotch, and of course Reid follow suit. No more going out into the field. She's to remain at the office with Garcia no matter what. No more flying. With the exception of going home, she's to remain on the ground, limiting all traveling, even by car.

The promise of an early maternity leave probably seems appealing to most people, but Emily isn't a sit around and wait kind of girl. She likes to know what's happening, she wants to be a part of it.

She knows once the baby's there, she'll have plenty to do, spending all of her time off work learning to be a mother, but until then, she's perfectly fine staying at the office, helping Garcia.

She knows Garcia will be tickled pink with the new arrangements.

A small knock on her door, takes her attention from the ceiling. "Hey, Princess. Your carriage awaits." Morgan grins holding the door open for a small nurse to push in a wheelchair.

"Reid's awake, and he won't stop asking about you. Since he can't walk, we figured it'd be easier to move you," he tells her, stepping out of the way so the nurse can unhook the monitor from around Emily's stomach.

"So, I'm good to go?" Emily asks the nurse as she helps untangle some of the IV lines from the wires.

"You're good to go visit your friend on the fourth floor, but you're not leaving the hospital for at least another day." The nurse is nice, her voice soft and patient, but Emily knows if it weren't for the pregnancy Valium, she'd probably want to slap her.

JJ and the nurse help Emily into the wheelchair, giving her a blanket to wrap around her feet.

The nurse smiles and warns Emily about getting out of the chair before taking her leave. Rossi stands and stretches, rubbing a finger over the three newly acquired stitches along the back of his scalp. "Well, I think I'll go find Hotch."

"Cafeteria, he went to get coffee," Morgan tells him, handing JJ the IV pole while he grabs the handles of the wheelchair. "I'm gonna drop her off, then I'll probably meet you down there."

Emily doesn't say anything as she's pushed out the door towards the elevators.

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><p>Reid had expected Emily to be one of the first people by his side when he woke up from surgery. What he hadn't expected was for her to be in a wheelchair wearing a mint green hospital gown.<p>

"What happened?" he asks, his voice hoarse and raspy. "Are you okay?"

"You're the one that someone just tried to kill," Emily tells him with a smile, trying not to look at the damage done to his neck. The victims' necks had looked just like that.

"Yeah, so it makes sense that I'm in a hospital. But why are you? What happened?"

Emily lets out a huff of air, and tosses her hair behind her shoulder. "I may have had a small panic attack that led to stress induced premature labor."

When Reid's eyes widen worriedly, Emily quickly places a hand on his bruised arm. "I'm fine. They stopped it, but I'm pretty much limited to sitting at a desk for the next few months."

"Or you can go on early leave," he suggests.

"Or I can sit at a desk." Her tone tells Reid that he most likely won't win the argument.

"Emily, you went into labor because you were—"

"Because I was worried about you. But thanks to the nice new pins in your ankle, you'll most likely be sitting right beside me. You won't have a chance to get into any more trouble until after the baby's born. I'll be fine." She leans back in the wheelchair, taking a chance to look him over. "You scared me," she tells him.

His neck looks horrible, but the rest isn't so bad. He's had worse. The bruising will probably worsen over the next few days, but the cuts and scratches will be gone in almost no time. The cast however, will most definitely be there for a while.

He reaches and takes her hand into his, squeezing tightly. "I'm sorry." She nods, succeeding in fighting back the tears.

"At least you already know how to use crutches," she says, trying to lighten the mood. His eye roll and dramatic sigh let her know she's succeeded.

He digs his head into the pillow, trying not to think about the next few months. "Don't remind me."

Feeling as though she can finally relax, Emily looks to the door, knowing someone will be there to take her back to her room soon. "So, do you think Hotch will still count this as a win even though three members of his team ended up in the hospital?"

Reid just laughs. "I think he should. Wins are hard to come by."

Sometimes the team just gets lucky.

**A/N: Reviews, as they've always been, are more than welcome.**


	28. Chapter 28

**The reason this took so long to post is because it took me so long to write the freaking thing. I broke a finger. Any idea how difficult it is to type on a computer with two of your fingers taped up in a splint? It's not easy. Not easy at all. Combine that with the fact I developed bronchitis that was borderline being pneumonia, I'm lucky to be posting this at all. That being said, the last chapter is already planned out. It'll be kind of long, but I'm determined to get this thing in under thirty chapters. I'm hoping to have it up within the next week. Wish me luck!**

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><p>Purple flecks of paint cover Reid from head to toe. It speckles his face and neck, tangles the hair on his arms, and pops against the black of the boot on his left ankle. He scratches at a particularly itchy patch of paint on his neck, wincing as the movement stretches his sore muscles, his entire shoulder region stiff from the repetitive motion associated with working a paint roller.<p>

Emily's sitting on the floor Indian style, a stack of freshly washed baby blankets and onesies resting next to her knee as she folds and places them in the new, white dresser. The recently remodeled apartment looks as though a bomb had exploded in Babies 'R Us, leaving the debris scattered about the living room.

Morgan had kept his word, coming over and sitting down with Emily to discuss possible ways to make the apartment seem bigger. Reid had helped with the math and geometry as Emily pointed out what she had in mind. The fact that both she and Reid were banned from work for at least a week gave her plenty of time to draw up some plans. Over the last few weeks, Morgan had come over, helping tear down the wall separating the living room and dining room, opening up the apartment, transforming it into something more akin to a loft instead of a townhouse.

Emily had asked Reid's opinion on everything before giving the all clear for him and Morgan to start construction. She even had his couch reupholstered with a dark, chocolate leather to better match the new décor, it's now resting along the back wall of the living room between two shelves full of books.

Reid hadn't been able to do much, the cast and crutches hindering his movement around the apartment, but as the apartment began to come together, he could actually see himself living there. It had slowly become his and Emily's place, not just hers.

They had talked about readying the nursery, discussed paint colors while Emily showed him the fabric Garcia had helped pick out for the curtains and bedding. Neither had moved past the actual discussion phase until a week ago. They had been on their lunch break when Emily suddenly felt the contractions start up again—not as intense as they were in Mason County, but still present.

A panicked rush to the hospital told them it was just a false alarm, nothing more than Emily's body getting ready for the baby to come. It had also been the last day Emily was allowed to work, her doctor insisting she take her early maternity leave.

Reid had come home the next day to find that Emily had used her free time to plan out exactly how the nursery should look as well as compiling an impressively long list of baby names for them to sort through.

They had spent that evening going through the list, testing the sound of the name as they worked on unpacking the rest of Reid's things, slowly putting things where they belonged.

"_Lily?"_

"_Lily Reid? Makes me think of a swamp. Next."_

"_A swamp? Why a swamp?"_

"_I don't know, because of swamp lilies and reeds. Whatever, what's the next name?"_

"_Sarah." _The discussion had continued over the next few days, one calling the other when they heard a name they liked.

"_Mackenzie?" _

"_What about Amy? It's simple."_

Slowly, they were starting to prepare for the baby's arrival. As soon as Reid was off the crutches and given the clear by his therapist to walk around in only the boot, he was off to the hardware store, buying several gallons of light purple paint.

The paint had sat in the corner of the room for several days, neither Emily nor Reid worried about rushing things. It wasn't until their apartment was taken over by baby things that they had been pushed into action, forcing them to finish the nursery if they wanted to see their living room again.

The baby shower had been a surprise, both to Reid and Emily. Garcia had called the day before, telling them she was coming over and making sure they didn't have any plans. They hadn't expected her to show up with the rest of the team, as well as a few other coworkers and neighbors, Lynette included.

Their friends had bought everything they would need and then some. Diapers, clothing, blankets, bottles, pacifiers, toys, even a stroller complete with matching car seat, and a set of wooden letters to hang on the wall spelling out the baby's chosen name. The biggest surprise had been the five hundred dollar crib that Emily's mother had mailed from Europe.

Hotch and Morgan had helped Reid paint the nursery, lying down tarps and outlining the edges of the room in tape. Rossi and Will had set about assembling all of the furniture. By the end of the day, Hotch, Reid, and Morgan were covered in paint while the newly assembled furniture was buried beneath burping rags and packs of diapers.

Now, watching as Emily folds the baby's clothes, Reid looks around the newly decorated nursery and lets out a tired breath. He knew all along that babies required a lot of things, in theory at least. But seeing it all in person, he tries to remember that he can do this, there's no need to get overwhelmed.

They're prepared now. Everything's ready. Emily's go-bag has been repacked, ready for a few nights in a hospital instead of a cross-country flight to chase a serial killer. They've made certain there are back-up plans for Emily to get to the hospital in case Reid isn't there. There are even back-up plans for her back-up plans. They're determined not to be caught off-guard.

"You look like you're about to have a stroke." Emily smiles when Reid only looks confused.

"How's that?" he asks, grabbing the edge of the dresser to help maintain his balance as he lowers himself to sit next to Emily.

She picks up one of the blankets and tosses to Reid, silently ordering him to help her finish folding. "Your face was all scrunched up," she tries not to smile as she imitates the face he had just been making. "That much thinking can't be good for the brain."

"Thinking is _always_ good for the brain," he says, setting the folded blanket on top of the growing pile. He reaches forward and takes one of the onesies, marveling at how tiny the article of clothing is before awkwardly folding it. "It's what keeps the brain working."

Emily can only nod in agreement, smiling as she watches Reid struggle to fold the small onesie. "You want to talk about it?"

"It's just a lot of stuff." He looks at the onesie, folded to the point that it's now no bigger than a dollar bill and frowns. Seeing that Emily's pile looks a lot better, he unfolds it and begins again. "Both couches are still completely covered in stuff, and we've already put away most of it."

"People have a lot of stuff. It all starts when they're babies." She takes a deep breath, arching her back as another cramp tightens the muscles along the base of her spine. It had started with just one or two a day, but over the last few days, she's noticed them picking up in frequency.

"You okay?" Reid looks at his watch, frowning when he sees a speck of purple covering up the nine. Every time he's noticed Emily showing any sign of discomfort, he's looked to his watch, making sure the contractions are far enough apart. He relaxes when he sees that it's been over four hours since the last one.

"I'm fine. It's just my back." She grabs the finished pile of clothes and neatly sets them in the opened dresser drawer before uncrossing her legs and raising her hands. "Help me up?"

Reid just smiles as he stands and wraps his hands around her wrists, pulling to help her off the floor. Over the last few weeks, Emily's stomach has swollen exponentially, proudly displaying its eight-month glory. Morgan jokes that she's so big it might be twins, causing Emily to frown, and Reid to panic until he remembers seeing the ultrasound, hearing only one heartbeat.

She laughed the first time she had difficulty tying her own shoe, nearly cried when she discovered she couldn't fit into the booth at the diner down the street. None of her pre-pregnancy shirts fit, not even a little. She no longer walks, but has to honest-to-god waddle thanks to the baby's low position. Any effort to get off the ground without help just isn't worth the trouble, her pride be damned.

She had laughed when a pregnant JJ had said she felt like a beached whale. Now, she has nothing but sympathy.

Kneading her fingers into the tender area of her lower back, she looks around the nearly finished room. The curtains have been hung, the bed and changing table assembled. She walks and sits down in the rocking chair placed near the bed. It actually looks like a nursery, like a room put together by two people who actually know what they're doing—never mind the fact that their team had to help get everything together.

Nearly seven hours ago, they didn't have half the things they would need for the baby. Emily had made a list, but as far as actually going out and purchasing anything, they hadn't gotten past a little paint and some fabric for the curtains.

She looks towards the window, smiling as she remembers Garcia holding up the finished curtains while Emily looked over the matching bedding. Garcia had bought extra fabric, taking it home to make a quilt for Baby Reid. The quilt's lying in the bed, next to a small pile of stuffed animals Auntie Penelope had deemed necessary.

Thinking of the mess still waiting for them in the living room, Emily has to agree with Reid that there is a lot of stuff. More than she really thought there would be. She had looked on-line, shopping around for ideas of what they would need. Most of it had been common sense: the baby would need clothes, and diapers, obviously somewhere to sleep, bottles, blankets.

With each site, there was more and more, and that's just for a newborn. As the baby grows, she'll need even more things. A highchair, shoes, toys. Emily had originally thought she'd be overwhelmed with everything, but as she looks around at the purple room, she feels excited, somewhat impatient.

Sickness aside, she's loved being pregnant. But she's ready for it to be over. She wants to meet her daughter, wants to see what she looks like. Getting all of this baby stuff is kind of like getting a new Nintendo for Christmas, but without any games.

She's ready to be a mom.

Reid walks over and straightens the last 'H' hanging above the crib on the wall. Jack had carried in the small box, proudly handing it to Emily, letting her know it was a gift for the baby. Emily had opened the box, revealing six painted wooden letters, spelling out 'Hannah', the name Reid and Emily had finally agreed upon.

They're painted light shades of pink, yellow, and white with little accents in the form of butterflies and flowers. They look cute above the baby's bed, matching perfectly with the rest of the room.

Emily watches as Reid yawns, absently running a hand through his hair, wincing when it tangles on a painted knot. "You should go to sleep, you've got to go to North Carolina tomorrow," she tells him around a yawn of her own. She knows she won't be sleeping. She hasn't really had a full nights sleep in almost two weeks. The baby seems to be a night owl, choosing the graveyard shift to toss and turn, making it near impossible for Emily to fall asleep.

"You're going to stay up again, aren't you?" Reid's already taking off his watch, getting ready to take a shower and try to wash off the paint. Emily hasn't been strictly put on bed rest, but the doctor did stress the importance of her not straining herself. "Am I going to wake up in the morning to find that you've sorted and organized everything?"

Emily just smiles and shakes her head slowly. "Nope, I'm just gonna watch TV, maybe even read a book." When Reid gives her a look that states he clearly doesn't believe her, she holds up three fingers, representing scout's honor. "I promise. I won't rearrange the living room."

"Or try and put away all of that stuff," Reid adds on, knowing she'll end up at least sorting through the smaller items.

"_Or_ try and put away all of that stuff," she repeats, quirking her mouth in a tight lipped grin. Reid points at her and dips his head knowingly, "Promise?"

"I'm not stupid, you know," she says, her grin morphing into a full smile. "I _did_ hear the doctor tell me to take it easy."

"Yes, you did. But your idea of 'take it easy' seems to differ from that of everyone else's." Reid stops his trek towards the shower, leaning against the doorframe to listen to her defense.

Emily tilts her head, trying her best to look innocent and confused at the same time. "How do you and _everyone else_ define 'take it easy'?"

"By actually taking it easy. No running around the apartment, rearranging bookshelves, climbing in chairs to reach the top shelves, walking up and down stairs to unload the car—"

"Okay, that one couldn't be helped. I had groceries in the car and they were gonna go bad if I left them," she interrupts.

"You weren't even supposed to be out shopping," he points out, leaving out the fact that she hadn't denied any of the other offenses.

Emily looks at him apologetically, trying to hide her guilt behind a smile. She _wasn't_ supposed to be running around town, but she had been hungry and wasn't in the mood for take-out. She's about to tell him so when there's another flare of pain in her back, stopping the words before they're said. She tries to school her features, working hard not to show him she's in pain.

"Just go shower," she tells him when the pain starts to subside. "I promise, I'm just going to lay back, prop my feet up and watch infomercials."

Reid stares at her moment, studying her for any sign that she might be lying. Seeing no evidence of deception, he pushes off the doorframe and marches to the shower.

Emily stays resting in the chair a few more minutes, waiting to see if the pain in her back will return. It didn't feel like it had before, pushing it aside as nothing more than a strain caused by all of the folding and sorting through the presents, she rocks forward and awkwardly stands from the chair.

She hears the shower turn on as she walks into her and Reid's bedroom to get a pillow and the extra blanket. Reid really doesn't have to worry about her straining herself by putting up the rest of the gifts. She had originally planned on at least finishing going through the items still covering the second couch and coffee table, but after the back pains, she's deciding it'd be best to just try and rest.

Propping up against the pillows, she tucks the blanket around her as she reaches for the remote. One hand resting on her stomach, the other flipping through channels, Emily settles in for a long night of amazing weight loss gimmicks and waiting for baby Hannah to settle down.

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><p><strong>I know not a whole lot happened this chapter, but it was all setting up for the next one.<br>**

**One more to go! Reviews rock my world, float my boat, move my furniture, tickle my fancy, etc. You get the picture.**


	29. Chapter 29

**This is the end. The final chapter. That being said, I'd like to remind everyone that this behemoth was originally intended to be a one-shot. Three hundred pages later...well, that was a poorly thought out intention. **

**And...I managed to get this published _before_ the beginning of season 8. Yes, it's only a few hours before, but it's still before.**

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><p>The room's usually full of people-prisoners, and family members alike, each trying to ignore the stark white walls and uniformed guards stationed every so many feet in an effort to pretend that they aren't on a time limit, patiently waiting for visiting hours to end. The room's usually loud and hectic, like a middle school cafeteria. But today it's quiet, Morgan's tired sigh the only sound echoing against the metallic tabletop.<p>

"It figures this would be a huge waste of time." Morgan's voice is soft, not really directed at anyone in particular, but Reid can still hear the anger present in his friend's words. It's always there when kids are involved, always has been.

"We knew there was a chance he wasn't going to talk," Reid tells him, once again looking at the notes Morgan had hastily taken throughout the interview. "I kind of wish he had chosen not to say _anything_." A small grunt of agreement is Morgan's only response.

They had driven the nearly five hour drive from Quantico to Bunn, North Carolina early Sunday morning, arriving in time to get settled into their motel before meeting with the Director of Affairs for the Franklin Correctional Center, the current home for one Tyler Winstead, former fugitive and suspected serial killer-kidnapper-pedophile.

The fact that Franklin Correctional Center is normally used as a processing center or to house minimum-security prisoners and offending youth also makes it Winstead's _temporary_ home. Wanted for the deaths of six people in Oklahoma and the kidnapping of his last victim's son, Timothy Winstead is not classified as a minimum-security prisoner, especially since he killed the two state troopers that tried to arrest him in Fort Worth the first time he had been caught.

Fort Worth's police department suspected that he was making his way to the border when he was captured by two unlucky patrolmen. By the time back up arrived, the troopers were dead, both with their throats slit, Winstead long gone. There was never any sign of the missing boy, and after two years, he was unofficially presumed dead.

When a rookie cop called in a drunk and disorderly Friday night outside the city limits of Bunn, North Carolina, he had no idea that the man he was picking up off the side of the road would make him the local hero for the next few months, earning a spot on the front page of the local paper and a visit from two FBI profilers intent on questioning Winstead about the location of the missing boy.

Winstead, despite the years on the run and apparent attempts to avoid imprisonment, had been more than happy to talk to the two agents, eagerly retelling accounts of the Oklahoma murders in vivid detail, proudly taking claim for the double homicide in Texas. However, after hours of tiring questions and overlooking perverse jokes, Reid and Morgan had not been able to convince Winstead to tell them about the missing little boy.

"I need a shower. I feel like I need to wash out my brain." Morgan tosses his empty styrofoam cup at the trashcan, frowning when it bounces off the rim and lands on the floor. He looks to Reid, half expecting a spiel about the impossibility of literally washing out the brain, which would undoubtedly lead to a lecture on actual brainwashing. Instead, Reid slowly gathers all of the papers and photos off the table, lining up the edges perfectly, as though he had suddenly developed a severe case of OCD.

"Penny for your thoughts, Pretty Boy?" Morgan leans against the white, metal column next to their table, crossing one leg over the other before folding his arms across his chest.

Reid doesn't look up from the ever-neatening stack in front of him. "Do you know where that saying originated?"

"No, and right now, that's not what I want to know. Right now, I want you to tell me what's got you playing the silent, brooding type."

Reid keeps his head down but turns his eyes up to look at Morgan. Seeing that his friend isn't likely to let it go, and having almost a decade's worth of experience knowing that he won't, Reid raises his eyebrows in defeat and presses his mouth into a thin line.

"I just wish this hadn't been a complete waste of time," he admits, desperately hoping it will be enough to convince Morgan. He doesn't want to have to acknowledge his discomfort with leaving Emily behind when she's so close to coming to term. The Braxton Hicks contractions she'd felt the week before coupled with whatever pain she was trying to hide from him Saturday night definitely has him worried.

Morgan tilts his head in understanding, buying Reid's half-truthful confession. "I might have over exaggerated when I said it was a _huge_ waste of time. The bastard might not have told us what he did with James, but he gave a full and detailed confession to the other eight murders. Both Oklahoma and Texas have the death penalty. Winstead isn't getting away with anything." Morgan tries to smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come on, Kid. Lets get out of here, we've got a long drive in the morning." He slaps Reid on the shoulder before helping clear away the last of the file.

It's late in the evening, and the prison's population is in the yard, passing the time before dinner. Reid and Morgan follow the guard through the small passageway along the fencerow separating the prison's yard from the main building.

Social norm dictates that when you're spoken to, you respond—a give and take. Social norm doesn't exist within prison walls, no matter how small the prison is.

From the moment the large metal door opened and Reid and Morgan stepped out, they became the center of attention for every inmate within eyesight. They both keep their eyes forward, focusing on the back of the guard's uniform instead of the nasty comments being thrown their way. Threats, insults, and a few questionable remarks that make even Morgan's face burn with embarrassment are ignored as they walk the short distance to the gate's main entrance.

They stop at the truck stop near their motel and grab a couple of sandwiches before heading back to their rooms, each too tired and mentally drained to bother with anything outside of getting ready for bed despite the sun having just gone down.

Reid showers before sitting at the small table near the motel's window. He picks up his phone and hits speed dial before unwrapping his sandwich, picking at stray pieces of shredded lettuce that refused to stay in place.

"Hey, you." Reid smiles at Emily's now familiar greeting. Anytime more than a couple of hours pass without them seeing one another, she greets him with a short and simple 'hey, you." He's come to expect it.

Morgan and Garcia might have more elaborate and creative ways of speaking to one another, but Emily and Reid are capable of saying a lot more in a lot less words.

"Hey," he tells her, trying to decide if the meat on his sandwich is turkey or chicken, frowning when he can't honestly tell if it's even either. "How's your day been?"

"I finished putting everything away, and before you freak, JJ came over and helped."

He laughs a little. He knew the moment he woke up the next morning to find her asleep on the couch, her feet propped up on the arm rest and the remaining baby supplies untouched on the coffee table and second couch that she would get to work putting it all away the moment he was gone.

"I wasn't going to freak out."

"Whatever," she says playfully, and Reid can imagine the smile over the phone. "Just admit you're at least happy everything's officially ready for when she gets here."

At the mention of their baby, Reid immediately feels some of the tension brought on by Winstead's smugness ease away from his shoulders. After conceding his mystery sandwich is at least edible, Reid and Emily spend the next hour discussing anything and everything not related to psychotic Okies and missing little boys.

Reid tells her about Morgan's road rage and inability to follow directions, even ones clearly outlined on a map. Emily talks about the fact that their linen closet has been taken over by elephant covered nursing blankets and the spare shelf in the utilities room now holds a giant box of diapers. Reid tries to convince Emily to admit to any pre-labor pains. She only confesses to a few minor back aches, trying her best to convince not only him, but herself as well that it's nothing more than her body practicing for the real thing—never mind the doctor's warning that the practicing will only last so long before the real thing kicks in.

Reid ends the call after hearing Emily yawn, promising her he'll call when he and Morgan are on their way the next morning. Looking at the clock, seeing that it isn't even nine o'clock yet, Reid decides to try and watch some TV. He falls asleep before the first commercial break.

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><p>Emily's slowly getting used to not sleeping at night. She figures it's nature's way of preparing her for when the baby actually gets here, especially since it's the baby that's keeping her up now.<p>

She pulls out the biggest t-shirt she can find and heads to the bathroom, turning on her iPod as she waits for the shower water to heat up. The pain in her back has decided to be more frequent, and much more annoying. Seemingly not satisfied with torturing her lower back, the pain has spread to encircle her abdomen, mainly the area right below her navel. Period cramps have nothing on these suckers.

She'd like to take a bath instead of a shower, give her tired body a chance to relax with a nice hot soak, but the truth of the matter is she's too big to get out of the bathtub without help, something she had been mortified to learn a few weeks back when she was forced to call Reid to help her out.

As she undresses for her shower, she looks at her reflection in the mirror, studying the now steep rise of her stomach. Running her hand from the top to her belly button, she realizes that the baby's dropped. Her stomach used to come to a point, causing her belly button to stick out embarrassingly through her shirts. But over the last week, since the not-really-contractions contractions began, the 'point' has rounded off, slowly dropping lower. The baby getting into position.

Stepping into the shower, she knows she probably won't make it the next few weeks to her expected due date. The doctor had told her that there was a probability that she would have to be induced, forcing her water to break and sending her into labor. Emily had almost been prepared for that, thinking if anything, her baby would be stubborn and not want to come out. But feeling the way her body's been changing, especially over the last week and a half, she knows that inducing labor probably won't be a reality.

The water's hot, turning her skin a nice shade of pink as she works the conditioner through her hair, wincing when she feels another not-contraction attack her body. It's worse than the last ones, closer to what she felt in Mason County, and she has to grab hold of the small shelf designated for holding soap in order to keep her standing.

She waits for the pain to pass, and hurriedly finishes rinsing out her hair. She turns off the water, hating the immediate feel of coolness associated with the lack of hot water and pulls back the curtain in order to reach for her towel.

She feels something shift inside of her, but it's not the baby moving, and she probably wouldn't have noticed it were it not for the sudden feeling of something wet rushing down her legs. At first, she's confused, looking down to see the not quite clear liquid pooling at the bottom of the shower, before she feels a slight bit of embarrassment.

She frowns then, knowing she hadn't _felt _like she needed to use the bathroom, and the stuff slowly going down the drain definitely doesn't _look_ like urine. Besides, people don't pee that fast, do they?

Confusion and embarrassment fly away, taking the frown with it as shock and a definite deer in the headlight look take their place.

Wouldn't you know her water would break when Reid's not even in the freaking state?

Turning the shower back on to quickly rinse off her thighs and between her legs, she forces herself to take a few calming breaths, determined not to freak out. She can do this. Back-up plans and all that.

Wrapping a too-small towel around her, she quickly walks to the bedroom, water running down her back and shoulder from her soaking wet hair. She grabs the phone and pauses, wondering who she should call first. Realizing that time is _definitely_ a factor, she puts aside emotion and decides to let logic take over. She scrolls through her recent calls until she finds the name she's looking for. Pressing send, she puts the phone to her ear and sits on the edge of the bed, remembering to breathe and not freak out.

"Emily, you know I love you to pieces, but you better have a really good reason for waking me up, Love. I, unlike you, actually have to be at work in the morning."

"Penelope, I think my water broke."

Silence.

"I'm on my way." Emily can hear Garcia knocking things over as she reaches for the bedside lamp. "Are you having contractions? How long ago did it break? What do you mean you _think_ it broke?"

The questions are jumbled and hurried, each one tapering off as though she thought of the next before even finishing the first. Emily brings her wet hair over one shoulder in order to keep the coldness off her back before answering.

"I've been having contractions on and off for the last week, you know that. I was getting out of the shower and it just broke… I think."

"You think."

"Garcia, I'm pretty certain I didn't just pee on myself, but I've never actually _experienced_ my water breaking so I can't say it was _definitely_ that." Emily hears the slight panic in her own voice, feels the shaking of her hands, and knows the goose bumps she sees on her arms aren't entirely because she's sitting on her bed, wet, wearing nothing but a towel that won't even wrap all the way around her anymore.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Oh, we're gonna have a baby!" Emily can't help smiling at Garcia's happiness. "You get everything you're gonna need together and I'll call you when I'm outside."

Emily hangs up the phone and hurriedly gets dressed, towel drying her hair the best she can. As she reaches for her go-bag, she feels the beginnings of another contraction, and frowns. She hadn't looked at the clock when the last one happened, she had been in the shower.

She knows it had taken her a few minutes to finish washing her hair, and then there was the whole water breaking thing, followed by a small not-freak out moment. She had called Garcia, and then gotten dressed. How long had that been? Ten minutes, maybe fifteen?

She reaches for her phone, looking at the time. It's a few minutes from midnight, almost Monday. Her baby's going to be born on a Monday.

Scrolling back through her recent calls, she looks for Reid's number knowing it's right below Garcia's.

* * *

><p>Reid jumps when his phone rings, waking him from a welcomingly dreamless sleep. He looks to the nightstand, his hand searching blindly for the loud intrusion, frowning when he doesn't find it. As the confusion associated with being suddenly awoken during REM sleep dissipates, he realizes the ringing is coming from the other side of the room. He turns over and sees the pale, blue light of his cell phone on the small table where he had left it after talking with Emily.<p>

It stops ringing before he can throw the covers back and climb out of bed. It starts ringing again almost immediately after, forcing him to move faster, made all the more difficult by the cast on his foot, the boot abandoned near the bed.

Not even looking at the caller-ID, he flips the phone open and presses it to his ear. "Reid," he says, his voice still thick with sleep. He uses his finger and thumb to wipe at his eyes as he waits for whoever is on the other line to speak.

"Reid, my water broke. Garcia's on her way, and we're going to the hospital."

It takes a moment for his normally rapid brain to catch up with the words and translate their meaning. As soon as his brain starts to function enough to compute that Emily's the one on the phone telling him that she's in labor and on the way to the hospital, it immediately shuts down again, enough to cause him to be at a loss for words.

"Reid?"

"I'm here," he manages to say after a few moments. He clears his throat and once again rubs at his eyes, more as something to do than anything else. He's not there, and she's going into labor. Figures.

At least he's not too far, and the way Morgan drives…

"I'll be there as soon as I can. How long ago did it break?" He tucks the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he hurriedly tries to get his feet to cooperate and go into the right pant leg.

"Not long. Maybe ten minutes ago."

Alright, ten minutes isn't that long. She could be in labor for a long time, he might be able to make it before the baby gets here.

"Only if you hurry," she says, and he realizes he said the last bit out loud.

"I'm already out the door." He grabs his bags and the motel's key before heading towards the door.

"Garcia's on the other line, we'll call you when we get to the hospital." She hangs up before he has a chance to respond. He walks down towards the opposite end of the motel, a silent mantra of "don't freak out" playing through his head.

He bangs on Morgan's door, not caring that it's midnight and he's likely to wake up anyone in the surrounding rooms.

_Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out._

"Morgan, open up!"

Reid tries not to look surprised when a rumpled Morgan pulls the door open, his gun clenched at his side, his eyes wide in alarm.

"What the hell, Reid?"

"Emily's in labor." Reid's secretly pleased to see that he's not the only one who took a moment to fully register the meaning of those words.

"Damn," Morgan runs a tired hand over his face. He turns and sets the gun on the nightstand before tossing Reid his room key. "Here, go check us out. I'll meet you at the car."

Reid just nods as he turns to hurry to the front office. Less than ten minutes later, they're on the road, Reid thankful that Morgan's never been able to grasp the concept of driving slow.

* * *

><p>She said it once, and she'll say it again: Being pregnant is the equivalent of being a human pincushion. The first thing the doctors do after confirming she is, in fact in active labor is put an IV line in her hand.<p>

She's wearing a thin hospital gown and Garcia's helped her put on a robe. They tell her it will still be a while before the baby gets here, but she's too far along to go back home. When they suggest she walk around to help move things along, she wants to laugh at them. There's no way she feels like walking around.

But then the contractions pick up again, more intense than before and it hurts to even sit down. Maybe walking it out will help.

As soon as Emily was in the care of the nurses, Garcia had started dialing, calling everyone who'd want to know about the upcoming arrival of Baby Reid, never mind the fact that it was nearing one in the morning. Almost everyone they know is used to late nights anyway.

"Did you call Reid?" Emily asks, trying her best to put on the pair of slippers she had packed in her bag.

"Yeah, they're on their way. How you feeling?"

Emily looks up from her stubborn slipper, a friendly glare on her face. Garcia smiles sympathetically, moving to help Emily put on the second shoe. "Just think, it's all for your baby. In a couple of hours time, you'll have a little bundle of joy, a whole new someone that's never been here before."

Emily smiles, but it quickly morphs into a grimace as the now familiar pain makes a come back. She can only nod as Garcia rubs her back, squeezing her hand for support. It's over after a few seconds, but the residual pain is still there. They're getting worse with each one, and she really doesn't want to know how bad it's going to be when it comes time to push.

"You ready to strut your stuff?" Garcia's smiling, clearly not the least bit put off by the doctor's warning that it could still be a while before the baby's born. She was the same way when Henry was being born. Twelve hours of a grumpy JJ hadn't once affected Garcia. Apparently, she's able to focus on the fact that her friend's are in ill moods because they're having a baby instead of focusing solely on the 'ill mood' part.

"If it'll move things along, then yeah. Did Reid say where they were?" Emily tries to tie the robe around her but settles for leaving it open when she sees how ridiculously high the knot rests on her stomach.

"They're still a couple of hours out." Garcia holds the door open as Emily waddles towards her. "But don't worry. Morgan'll get 'em here in time." She steers her friend down the long hallway towards the nurses' station, keeping a close eye to see if another contraction will show up. They're still about ten minutes apart, but she doesn't want to be caught off guard.

As they start to approach the elevators, the doors open allowing a slightly flustered looking JJ to step out. She has on no make up and she's wearing a dark grey T-shirt with the letters NOPD printed across the front, but she still looks pretty, her blue eyes shining with happiness when she sees her two friends.

She walks the short distance to meet them, tucking her hair behind her ears before holding her palms out, patting the air. "Are Reid and Morgan on their way?"

"Already done," Garcia assures her as JJ moves to Emily's other side.

"So, are you excited?" JJ asks as they reach the end of the hall and turn before they pass the seating area reserved for family members.

"Yes, but mostly a little bit nervous." Emily had thought a lot about giving birth over the last few months, especially as the weeks slowly ticked away, steadily bringing her closer to the actual event. At first, she wasn't nervous, not until she started to read the books and made the mistake of watching that video that was supposed to help prepare expecting mothers. Since then, her normally cool composure has taken a lot more effort to keep in place.

"It'll be over before you know it," JJ promises. "And it will totally be worth it."

Emily has no doubt.

* * *

><p>Reid was seven years old when he first discovered his love for statistics. He was three when his parents realized he had an excellent memory. At thirteen, he learned how to drive a car, and at twenty, he lost his virginity. When he was twelve, he began mismatching his socks.<p>

His entire life is cataloged in his mind—sorted and filed away in self-made categories.

There's a file for all of the firsts, and a separate for the lasts. The first time he kissed a girl, played chess, or met Jason Gideon. The last time he competed in a spelling bee or science fair, the last time he stepped foot in his childhood home, or the last time he touched Dilaudid.

Then there are the files for the things he wants to remember, and things he wishes he didn't.

At some point the files begin to overlap, but at the end of the day, Spencer Reid is still capable of distinguishing the different components of each individual file—he's still capable of sorting it all out.

Or at least he could until now.

Right now, he isn't sure he's capable of anything beyond this moment, but he knows for a fact that he wants to remember every single second. And for the first time in a while, he's actually thankful he has the ability to do just that.

Truthfully, he doesn't think he needs an eidetic memory to remember what's happening. This entire day will be ingrained in his psyche for the rest of his life. Today's the day he's finally going to meet his daughter. Another for the first file. He just wishes the stupid vending machine would cooperate with his need for this day to perfect.

They made it to the hospital almost five hours after Emily had. Rossi had met them in the waiting room. Well, 'met' isn't exactly the right word, but he was in the waiting room. His head was resting against the wall, his feet propped on the small coffee table, wrinkling the cover page of an outdated magazine. A book laid forgotten in his lap and his mouth was slightly open. They heard him snoring the moment they stepped off the elevator.

JJ showed up before they had a chance to wake him.

"Don't worry," she had said. "Garcia took pictures and video before you got here." They laughed as they followed her to Emily's room.

Now, Reid's trying to decide if the candy bar is worth another dollar, seeing how the stupid treat got stuck and refused to fall the first time he put in four quarters.

"I think you have to do more than stare at it." Rossi walks up behind him, the squeak of his tennis shoes echoing through the wide hallway. Reid had been surprised to see the man so laid back and casually dressed. Blue jeans and tennis shoes weren't exactly something Reid thought Rossi owned.

Then again, the whole team looks like they just rolled out of bed. Odds are when Hotch shows up within the next hour after dropping Jack off at school, he'll be in a suit and tie, making him stick out like a sore thumb among the tired and sleep deprived agents.

"It stole my dollar," Reid says gently kicking his booted foot against the bottom of the machine before turning to face Rossi. He smiles when he's presented with a cup of steaming coffee. "Thanks."

Rossi just smiles in return and takes a sip of his own coffee. "I figured you could use this. You look like you're about ready to drop."

Reid nods, knowing he looks ragged despite having been up for nearly eight hours already. "I honestly think I'm going on adrenaline."

"Yeah, well that won't last forever. If she doesn't hurry up and pop, you'll be crashed in one of those damn plastic chairs. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience here."

"They say it shouldn't be much longer. They've already done the epidural. Pretty soon they'll be moving her to the delivery room." Reid had been relieved when he arrived to find out he hadn't missed anything. As scared as he is, he knows he wants to be in the room, by Emily's side when Hannah's born.

"She's getting restless, epidural be damned." Rossi laughs at the memory of Emily sleepily declaring she wished everything would just hurry the hell up. The epidural might have helped with the pain, but it also loosened her up enough to voice her opinion. Needless to say, she is not happy having spent the last eight hours in a hospital.

She's been in labor just under twelve hours if you count from when the first major contractions started—not the not-really-contractions contractions, but the painful, made-her-stop-and-reach-out-for-support contractions.

Five hours of worrying whether or not Reid would get there before the baby did and a few hours of actually begging a stranger to stab her in the back with a freaking needle, Emily is ready for this whole experience to end. Baby Reid needs to hurry and make her grand entrance, because mamma can't take much more.

"Good news," Dr. Pate had shown up shortly after Reid did, all smiles and excitement. "It's time. We're gonna wheel you down now, we'll get everyone suited up, and get the show on the road."

Emily just smiles, thinking _it's about freaking time_, and _oh God, it's actually fixing to happen_ all at once.

The door opens and Reid walks in, looking slightly more alert thanks to the cup of coffee in his hands. When Dr. Pate tells him it's time to make their way down to the delivery room, his eyes instantly widen, all traces of exhaustion instantly disappear. Take that coffee.

The team meets them outside, each wishing them good luck as the gurney's maneuvered down the hall. And then it's all switching beds, and paper gowns and paper booties, and stirrups that would be awkwardly embarrassing if she wasn't in so much pain, and then a small moment of panic, because no one can compartmentalize what she's actually getting ready to do.

And then she's pushing, Reid holding her hand the entire time.

People are telling her she's doing great, that it's almost over. They remind her to breathe and tell her to push before telling her not to push, and wouldn't you know that'd be all she _wants_ to do when she's told not to.

The whole time, Reid is there. He doesn't say a lot, or at least she doesn't hear him say anything. She feels him though. Feels his hand squeezing against hers, feels him push the loose strands of hair out of her face, feels him watching her when the pain isn't clouding her every thought, feels him just being there, not making her do this alone.

She's done a lot in her forty-odd years. Most of it with an extensive amount of training backing her up, but this isn't something you can prepare for. Not really. No amount of reading and videos can get you ready for this. Essentially, she came in here blind, and he followed her.

"Come on, Emily. One more push, on three…"

Reid's listening to the doctor instructing Emily on what to do. He vaguely recognizes the nurses talking amongst themselves, preparing to take the baby. But he _hears_ Emily. Her small cries of pain, grunts, harsh breathing, and whimpers. He hears her say his name as she readjusts her grip on his now numb hand.

And then he hears Hannah.

All screams, decibels, and changing octaves. Something sounding more like an animal than a baby, and it's the most fascinating sound Reid's ever heard. And then he hears Emily say his name again, and when he looks at her, she isn't looking at him. All her attention focused on the squirming, red-faced baby rebelling against the cool air, bright lights, and offending hands.

Emily's hair is all messed up, most of it having fallen from the braid. Fly-aways stick out, forming a frizzy halo, while sweat traps the rest against her face and neck. Her eyes are wide and bright, her face flushed, and her breathing still heavy. She looks exhausted, but Reid can see the pure joy. He feels it too, and he can't help wondering at how beautiful she looks.

The baby's wrapped in a blanket and handed to Emily, who takes a shaky finger and runs it along the baby's cheek, marveling at the bright, blue eyes.

"Look at her," Emily whispers, meant only for Reid to hear. "She's beautiful." The doctor and nurses smile as Emily grins happily, finally taking her eyes off the baby when Reid leans down and kisses her messed up hair.

When Reid walks out of the delivery room, he's still wearing the paper gown, and his purple-specked boot is still covered in a blue paper bootie. Garcia meets him half way, bringing him into a spine-crushing hug when she sees the smile on his face. She pulls away, kissing him on either cheek like she had so many months ago when they first learned about the baby.

"Well?" Hotch asks, already smiling. Reid runs his knuckles along the palm of the opposite hand, grinning as he relays the information he's just been given. "Hannah Marie Reid. Seven pounds, eleven ounces, seventeen inches long."

A little over an hour later, Garcia snaps the very first family photos, adding the images to the now pretty impressive baby book. Reid keeps looking from Emily to the baby in his arms.

Everything about her is small and _tiny_, and she's got a head full of hair that's soft and fine, and she's so incredibly _theirs_. Emily and Reid's. A little girl.

And Emily doesn't care whether or not she grows up to be a runway model, genius, super spy, because she absolutely loves the little girl. As she watches Reid sit Indian style on the foot of the bed, Hannah swaddled in a receiving blanket in his arms, she agrees that yes, all that pain and frustration, all the little moments of freaking out, and months of hiding their relationship, and being forced to have movie nights to fight off nightmares was completely worth it.

**Three Weeks Later…**

"Should we wake him up?"

"Don't you dare! He's got a newborn at home. He needs the sleep."

"Yeah, but Baby Girl, the boy's standing up."

"All the more proof that he _needs the sleep_."

"Well, he can sleep at home." JJ walks towards the break room, slowly approaching the man leaning against the wall, an empty coffee cup resting loosely in his hands. She had seen Reid starting a fresh pot to brew a little while ago. When she didn't see him return to his desk, she went to find him. And find him she did, only to search out Morgan and Garcia shortly afterwards.

"Spence…" She barely touches his shoulder before he jerks his head up, looking around the room wide-eyed.

"What time is it?" he asks, pressing a palm into his eyes, trying to wipe away the sleep.

"Just after four. You kinda fell asleep." She smiles when he turns and looks at the wall, seemingly confused on how he had ended up leaning against it.

He looks down and reaches for the coffee pot to hide his embarrassment. Emily's insisted on her being the one to get up with the baby at night, seeing how she doesn't have to be in at work the next morning and she's the baby's food source. It doesn't matter, though. He's up anyway, if nothing more than to watch the baby girl fall back asleep.

He's tried rolling back over and letting Emily deal with it on her own. Each time he's ended up staring at the ceiling or the wall, waiting for Emily to come back only for her to ask why he's still awake. He never has a good excuse.

"It took Henry a good while to sleep through the night, too." JJ rubs his arm, flashing him a sympathetic look.

"I think I'm just going to start sleeping through my lunch hour." Reid nods his head, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he truly considers the possibility of lounging on the conference room's small couch.

"It's better than passing out next to the coffee machine," she tells him, turning to see if Garcia and Morgan waited around. When she's certain they're no longer there, JJ turns back and whispers conspiratorially, "By the way, Garcia might have taken some pictures of you zonked out."

Reid just rolls his eyes as he reaches for the sugar. "I don't doubt it. All she's done the last few months is take pictures."

"She did the same with Henry. I've got the baby book put up for when he's older." Whatever Reid was about to say in response is cut off by a yawn that he tries to hide behind his hand.

"Drink your coffee, Spence. We still got a couple of hours, then you can go home."

* * *

><p>"Look! Daddy's home. Do you know what that means?" Reid hears Emily as soon as he walks through the door, promptly stepping over Sergio on his way to the bedroom. "It means he can watch you while I take a bath, that's what it means." He doesn't even bother trying to hide his smile at Emily's softer inflection, the higher tone reserved for when adults speak to babies.<p>

"Hey, you," she says when he steps into the room, her voice once more its normal tenor. She's sitting on the bed, Hannah lying in front of her, both surrounded by several stacks of recently folded laundry. "She's changed, fed, and happy."

"Hey, Hannah. Are you happy?" An attentive blink of blue eyes is all he receives for an answer as he reaches and lifts her off the bed, carefully bracing her head. Turning his attention to Emily who's already begun putting up the laundry, he asks, "How was your day?" It's a question he really isn't used to asking her, having spent so many years having her 'day' be the same as his.

"Well," she begins, "She's decided she likes to grab a hold of my hair and pull, and she spit up all over the couch, that's why the cover's off the cushion." The words make it sound as though she's complaining, but the smile and the soft tone tell Reid she's really just relaying different events from the day. Not a lot can happen throughout the day when your only companion spends most of her time eating, sleeping, or using the bathroom. "After that little incident, we took a nap."

Reid laughs, "Me, too." When Emily looks at him questioningly, he tells her about falling asleep waiting for coffee. "Garcia might have taken a picture or two."

"Gotta love her," Emily tells him, rubbing her hand through the baby's fine curls before walking towards the bathroom. "Just give me half an hour, I want to soak."

"Take your time. We've got this." He looks down at the baby in his hands. "Don't we Hannah?"

He walks into the living room, kicking his shoes off before sitting down on the couch, stretching his now boot free leg out across the uncovered cushion. He looks around the room, noticing the differences that have slowly taken place since bringing the baby home. Emily's always kept a clean place, mostly due to the fact that she's hardly ever home. After the redecorating and moving all of Reid's things over to her place, the apartment had become slightly less spacious, but still borderline immaculate—at least after all of the baby supplies were put away.

Now, just a mere three weeks after bringing home Baby Hannah, the apartment looks completely different. It's still clean, but it has a definite 'lived in' feel to it.

There's a pacifier sitting on the entertainment center, a pack of baby wipes on the coffee table, an extra diaper sitting on top. There's a burping rag on the arm of the couch, and a small blanket thrown over the back of the same couch, small elephants printed on one side.

The car seat and stroller are resting near the doorway, the diaper bag's on the kitchen counter, next to the dish rack holding a few drying bottles.

"You've kinda taken over the place, haven't you?" He rubs his thumb along the baby's small fist currently wrapped around his finger, once again marveling at how small she is. Her hair, while still dark, has lightened the last few weeks, curling in a soft mess atop her head. "That's okay," he tells her. "I don't mind."

He spends the next half hour talking to her, telling her random facts and watching as she stares at him, all her concentration focusing on his face just inches from hers. He knows she doesn't understand him, but he loves that he can capture her attention. He could probably just make incoherent noises and she'd still watch him with those big, blue eyes.

When those same eyes start to droop, he lifts her and holds her to his chest, rubbing her back until she falls asleep.

"Where's Garcia's camera when you need it?" Emily's leaning against the doorframe, running a towel through her hair as she watches Reid and their baby. "Don't move," she says, before crossing to the diaper bag. She reaches in and pulls out her phone, Reid's attention going back to the baby.

He hears the digitized shutter of the phone, telling him Emily's taken the picture already. When he looks up, he sees her smiling, thumbs moving across the phone's screen as she sends the picture to Garcia—possibly to JJ, as well.

"I'm gonna put her down." He stands carefully so as not to wake her, holding her to him as he walks to her bedroom, laying her down before pulling the hand-made quilt up to her waist.

Emily walks up beside him, laying her cheek on his shoulder. "You know what we should do?" she whispers.

"What's that?" he asks, still watching the baby.

"We should watch a movie." She's still looking at their sleeping daughter, but she feels him turn his head to look at her.

Instead of asking why, or acting as though it were a ridiculous idea, he turns back to the baby and asks in an identical whisper, "What do you want to watch?"

"I've got the old _Dracula_ movie."

"With Bela Lugosi?"

"Yep," she says, reaching for the baby monitor on the dresser. "I'm thinking popcorn, and Oreos, and a few hours of just you and me."

"Sounds like a plan."

The popcorn's popped, Oreos divided, and opening credits rolling when the light on the baby monitor lights up, Hannah's flustered cry easily heard from the other room despite the help of the small device.

"I got her," Emily says, not even waiting for Reid to get up. He pauses the movie and follows her anyway.

"You know little lady, you're kinda messing up me and Daddy's movie night." Emily picks up the squirming baby, bringing the quilt with her as she moves towards the rocking chair, carefully keeping her voice light. "We haven't had one of those in a long time."

Reid walks in and leans his weight against the dresser, keeping quiet as Emily continues her one-sided conversation. "You know, you should appreciate movie night. It's what got this whole ball rolling."

Emily looks up, capturing Reid's eye as she smiles, remembering that tight feeling she felt in her chest the first time she asked Reid if he'd like to watch a movie. The feeling had only increased as their relationship developed, moving from friends to inevitably something more. Looking at the little girl fisting a hand around her still drying hair, Emily finds it hard to believe that there was a time she looked at Reid as nothing more than just a friend, that there was ever a time when she didn't want what she has now.

When she looks back up, Reid whispers, "I love you," and she just smiles, knowing he's speaking to them both, her and Hannah.

Eventually, Hannah goes back to sleep, Reid and Emily sneak back to finish the movie but fall asleep before Lugosi can entrance Helen Chandler out onto the balcony.

One day, the baby will sleep through the night, Emily will go back to work, and things will resume as normal—the _new_ normal, because things won't ever be like they were before. Things won't be like a fairy tale, everything wrapping up nice and neat in a pretend happily-ever after bow. It'll be hard working around the baby, dealing with teething, and worrying about fevers, cross-country flights, school plays, and the tooth fairy. Some days will be easier than others, but at the end of the day, they'll be together and happy. Just like they should be.

The End.

* * *

><p><strong>I really want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this. I now it wasn't exactly a smooth ride, but most of you (emphasis on the 'most') were patient and understanding. I can honestly say that I am completely blown away by the reaction this story has gotten. I never thought it would generate as many reviews and collect as many favorites and followers as it has. So, once again I thank each and every one of you, if for nothing more than for sticking with it through all 29 disjointed chapters, and as always reviews are more than appreciated.<br>**


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